


2: Establishing Relationships

by Ubdqelliot



Series: Raelan and the Mighty Nein [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mollymauk is a Good Friend, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, bear with me guys, good friend tm, oc is accidentally gay for molly, okay i said this was caleb/oc but by part three i cannot help it okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ubdqelliot/pseuds/Ubdqelliot
Summary: After the disaster that happened in Zadash, the new Nein struggle to figure out what to do. The newcomer begins to build relationships with the others as they take on their first collective mission.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Original Character(s), Mollymauk Tealeaf/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Raelan and the Mighty Nein [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065896
Kudos: 7





	1. An Adventurer's Chores

The first order of business, at least, for the Nein, was to attempt to sneak Horris out of the city. Of course, that was deemed impossible very quickly, leading them to think of all the things they hadn’t discovered in the city in hopes of finding some way to complete this goal. For Raelan, the answer seemed obvious, although he was very much uncomfortable with the idea. Between Kara and the fact the group apparently knew the secret password for the Gentleman, as well as the fact they would need a proper smuggler to get Horris out, all signs were pointing to the Evening Nip and the Myriad. Of course, Raelan being naturally a somewhat _decent_ person, he didn’t like the idea of being connected to underground crime, but he wanted to trust the group.

After all, like they had argued with Nott last night, when it comes to group decisions, whether you agree with it or not doesn’t matter. You stick with the group out of self preservation; you don’t want _them_ fucked because you didn’t want _you_ fucked.

That didn’t mean it was easy.

Having had the train of thought, he briefly checked back into the conversation, noticing the mention of Pumat. Nott was arguing it would be extremely suspicious to ask if they had a lead box, given the events of last night. The urge to protect his somewhat friend(s) flared up. “Pumat is fiercely protective of his clients, though. Unless the Assembly themselves came to ask, and it’s not as if they’d have reason to, he wouldn’t give a client up like that. Especially not a return one,” he pointed out, folding his arms across his lower chest. ~~He didn’t want the illusion to be _too_ obvious.~~

Of course, the subject quickly changed, and Horris ended up returning to the Tap. They continued to discuss something from before his joining, something about a Bryce, who was only ever referred to as “they.” Some part of him was happy at this, feeling validated by a random stranger’s existence. That mystery was solved quickly, and Nott and Jester let out a pleased cry. He chuckled to himself at the familial energy of this group, especially given the fact they’d not known each other a month.

“I’ve got to return to Pumats’ regardless if someone could come with me. I’ve some ink I need to pick up…” He trailed off, and Caleb glanced at him with recognition.

“I could go with you. It couldn’t hurt to get some more myself.” He didn’t know why the inclusion of the wizard made him feel so comfortable; he’d known this man less than a day. Amethyst purred with amusement from her pouch on his back.

“We should head for the blacksmith, the… Spark Hammer Smiths. Maybe we can see if we can get a lead box there.” Everyone nodded, seemingly satisfied with the current situation.

For most of the way, they walked the same way, wherein Caleb explained the parameters of the type of box they required so they didn’t seem like absolute bumbling idiots, or suspicious as hell. They reached the Invulnerable Vagrant first, and so the two split off, entering and reveling in the warmth of the magic shop.

“Oh! Hello! It’s good to see you two again!” The familiar firbolg called out, a smile instantly spreading across the tiefling’s face. “I didn’t realize two of my favorite customers knew each other!”

“ _Ja_ , apparently we stay at the uh… same tavern, so we figured, you know, why not?” Caleb explained, though Raelan didn’t see the effort necessary. The Pumats weren’t exactly nosy people.

“Well _fan_ tastic!” He stated in his comfortable, slow way. “What would you two like? I assume Rae, you’re here for your inks.” The smallest of the men nodded, holding out the two platinum he’d been given, as well as an additional five gold.

“Twenty-five gold, the other half of my payment,” he explained, and the blue-tinted man glanced at the coinage and beamed.

“Oh! Found your way to some platinum, did you?” It wasn’t meant to be condescending, he knew, but rather genuinely proud. The Pumats had almost become a collective pseudo-parent to him in the past few months, and thus have seen his progress. “Hey! Pumat!” He called out to one of the other simulacra.

“Yeah, Pumat?” He replied, casually smiling his wide smile.

“Our little, red-horned friend found his way to some platinum!” The other Pumat’s eyes widened with joy, glancing in Raelan’s direction.

“Oh! Cong _rat_ ulations, little one.” Even Caleb could see his new friend’s cheeks turn a brighter tone of red.

“Thanks, Pumats,” he mumbled, and the two in unison let out an _awh_. The Pumat that was handling the transaction reached out a slow hand and gently pat him on the head, completely vanishing into the illusory horns. His eyes widened in fear as he pulled back, glancing in horror at his new companion. The Pumat pulled his hand back with a confused start before realization spread across his features.

“Oh, right. Sorry, little red.” He laughed nervously, doing his best to ease the guilt evident in his big friend’s features, brushing his hair to account for said horns.

“It-it’s alright, Pumats.” He cleared his throat, hoping to _gods_ somehow the red-haired man had missed it. “Can I please get my ink?” The large man nodded, glancing down at his friend.

“Right away.”

The silence that followed was palpable, and the young man’s heart raced. _This couldn’t be it, right? They wouldn’t kick me out over this. I-I warned them._

The red-haired man snapped briefly, drawing his new ally’s attention. Without words, he whistled an inquisitive noise, gesturing above his head. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what he was asking.

 _“I don’t want to talk about it, please.”_ The man blinked for a moment, surprised, before studying the man before him. _“Warlock thing. You weren’t there when I explained it all, I figured Nott had filled you in.”_

 _“Somewhat,”_ came the reply, uneasy and uncertain. _“She didn’t mention you could do this. Through what means?”_

He simply shrugged at that, spying the arrival of his long-awaited wares. At that moment, the doors opened to reveal the rest of the crew. A different Pumat saw the new customers and beamed brightly. It was that moment that the both of them realized that two of the group had _never_ met them, of course based on the absolutely _astonished_ and _delighted_ looks on their faces.

Taking the brief pause, he took the opportunity to find a gentle place in his bag for the inks. He’d deal with it later. “I love you Pumats!” He called out to them all, and they grinned wider.

“Oh, we love you too, you little _rae_ of sunshine.” The one dealing with him winked, proud of his pun.

“Why, hello there!” The second Pumat called out to the entering group. “That’s just a real nice thing to see you… this early n the morning!” Beau… looked like she wanted to kill a man from the amount of confusion twisted into her expression. “I was just about to finish my breakfast snack, so you caught me at a good time.”

“The _fuck_?” The monk let out, looking to the others and pointing at the three simulacrums. It was that moment Nott began to explain.

“This is normal, it’s okay!” Ah, perhaps the monk thought she was high?

At the same time that happened, the blue tiefling piped up. “Are you open all the time?”

The second Pumat shook his head. “Not all the time. We generally do a cycle of sunrise to about four hours past sunset. That’s our general scheme that we maintain business.” Honestly, good to know, even Rae didn’t quite know that after all this time.

“Pumat,” Fjord began, drawing the attention of all the Pumats within the store. “We’d like to introduce you to one of our friends. This is Beau.”

The two responded at the same time; Pumat with “Beau?”, said woman with “’sup?”

Ah, comedic timing.

“Well, the pleasure is respectfully mine,” he spoke, reaching out his hand and encompassing the woman’s entire fist with it.

It was at that time that Jester piped up with a surprisingly rehearsed lie before giving up and asking directly. Of course, the Pumats were happy to provide. During the discussion, the younger tiefling took the opportunity to glance over again at Caleb, who was still studying him with a careful eye.

 _“Ioun. She… she’s my patron. I’m not a cleric, but due to the nature of our relationship she provides me with… some bizarre gifts.”_ Again, he lightly shrugged. _“I’m not sure why she gave me this one, but it’s interesting.”_ That was a blatant lie, and Caleb knew it too. Thankfully, he was insightful enough not to press further.

“We also may need some healing potions,” Mollymauk piped up, drawing both their attention back to the scene in front of them. Shortly after securing verbal agreement on that, they began to discuss what other magical stuff they might have, and the realization that everyone save him came into the equivalent of over a hundred gold stuck him flatly. His heart ached as he realized he barely had more than he started with; around enough to purchase half the amount of ink he needed. Caleb saw him deflate and offered a gentle, wordless apology.

In the meantime, the firbolgs began to show them magic items that while useful, were very much out of a single person’s price range. Of course, when the price of the lead box came up, Beau was very nosy about the previous contents. Instead of getting angry or frustrated, he simply diverted his attention elsewhere; a very Pumat way of doing so, he’s learned. A humorous discussion ensued, talking about the friend as if she weren’t there. The newcomer didn’t participate, obviously, but it was amusing to watch.

Nott inquired about perhaps enchanting a flask to be a never-ending source of alcohol, which, while initially hilarious, was secretly concerning. Of course, Pumat didn’t notice the potential concerns of enchanting such an object and stated simply that it was very doable. Apparently, she had two-fifty gold. They _really_ seemed to be much more successful than he was at this adventuring thing, deflating him even more.

As healing potions and gold and platinum was passed around, Mollymauk seemed to spy the man’s distress, and piped up. “I’ll take another for our new friend here.” The Pumats seemed to notice this and beamed, taking the five platinum from his hand and sliding the small healing potion to their beloved ‘little red.’

 _“Are you sure?”_ He extended towards the purple man, feeling guilty for costing them so much despite not holding his own.

 _“Absolutely,”_ he replied in kind, ensuring not to let the hidden conversation be known. _“You’re one of us now, and I expect you’ll do plenty to repay me and the rest of us in the future.”_ The sentiment made Raelan want to cry, and the man seemed to notice this from across the store. _“Don’t you cry on me now,”_ he teased, but they both knew it was playful.

It was that moment that Caleb piped up, inquiring about spell scrolls. His interest entirely focused on that, excited at the brief realization that having someone who was studying a similar magic to him meant he could likely have a broader access to spells- assuming he had the materials to copy them. Cantrips or first level spells could cost from fifty to a hundred, which was easy change for them, apparently. Second level- the highest either of them could copy- would be around two-fifty or more. While he didn’t have the money to be able to purchase them, nor would he be willing to ask one of the others to purchase it for him, it was good to know that potentially getting some wasn’t too far out of his grasp.

While Caleb was going through the potential spells he could ask for, even going so far as to lean in and ask Raelan if he knew of some the red-haired wizard may be interested in, Fjord inquired about Pumat Prime.

Now, it wasn’t as if he didn’t _like_ Pumat Prime, he was just as much an extraneous parental unit as his simulacrum. The Pumats that ran the store were less worldly, less experienced, and thereby more… gentle. Pure. Pumat Prime reminded him more of his aunt back in Trostenwald; experienced, always busy, always exhausted. He shared the others’ affection towards their familiar customer but didn’t see him nearly as much as the rest of him, and thus was less kind. When Fjord brought up bringing out Prime for the sole purpose of seeing what he was like, the uncomfortable pit returned to his stomach.

He tried to distract himself further by looking through his spells, but the inevitable draw of a Pumat drew his attention back in. The group, of course, asked quite a few rather personal questions, which Prime pointed out as somewhat inappropriate without directly saying no. It took a moment, amidst the retelling of his story, to realize the tiefling’s presence. “Oh. Hello Rae. I didn’t see you there behind your book,” he teased. “Your lady teach you anything new?”

He nodded, recalling the dream he’d had the night before and the new notes in his book. “Yeah, just recently, actually. I have a list of some new components I might need, but the other Sols and I can work out the details,” he admitted, realizing partway through that he sounded like he requested Prime’s presence for something as silly as _spell components._ Caleb raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by the mention.

“Lovely.” The firbolg clapped his hands together as he said that.

Fjord’s follow-up question drew Prime’s attention once again. “How many years have you had this store?”

The expression on the furred man was showing waning patience, although a gentle pleasure at the curiosity and interest of these new folk that had already spent so much money at his store. “Been running this place for a good twelve years,” he admitted, and Raelan nodded along to himself, pulling a loose piece of parchment from the back of his tome to begin his list of required spell components.

More pleasantries were exchanged between Prime and the half-orc, not that he much minded. Amidst all the anxiety within him, the younger tiefling forgot just how kind Prime still was, even if he wasn’t quite as so comparatively.

“What mages were you with?” Jester piped up. “What mages found you? Were they with the Academy?” Ah, so they knew of his relationship with the Assembly, then.

“Sort of. They were with the Cerberus Assembly.” Recognition crossed her features. After a few moments of pleasantries, he continued. “The main person who’s been of aid to me is the Headmaster Oremid Hass, who runs the Hall of Erudition.” That he didn’t know, likely as he hadn’t thought it kind to ask. “He’s the Archmage of Cultivation within the Cerberus Assembly. He’s been a real nice beacon of tutelage. He’s a bit rough on the edges and seems kinda tough, but he’s a softie, especially when it comes to small critters.” A look of fear crossed his eyes a moment, as he realized he gave some vulnerable information about an Archmage of the assembly. “Don’t tell him I said that.” _Gods,_ he sounded so desperate when he said that.

“Don’t worry, Pumat, they won’t,” the newcomer piped up, absently leaning a bit forward and reaching a hand out in an effort to comfort him. While his attempt did ease the tension in the giant man some, his urge to escape was too great.

“Anyway-“ His voice cracked. “I got to get back to work.” With that, he hurried away, and Raelan’s heart ached seeing this. He glanced to one of the other Pumats and quietly urged him over, quickly scribbling something on a separate loose sheet of parchment.

 _“Can you please give this to him?”_ He inquired silently, and the other Pumat nodded, now used to that type of conversation.

“Yessir.” The simulacra’s eyes glanced to the paper, reading it over and ears falling down with admiration. “Thank you.” A silent nod, and the tiefling felt secure in the damage control of the situation.

Eventually, Caleb’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward to ask the reading Pumat for a cantrip: _shocking grasp._ The Pumat seemed to know it without a finish of the description, and the red-haired wizard seemed excited at the idea. “You know how it works?”

The grey-furred firbolg chuckled, lifting a hand. “I got it myself. Anyone want to see?” He inquired, and despite the fact it was a cantrip designed to _damage_ , most everyone piped up in agreement, save Caleb and himself. Beau reached out her hand for a handshake, and the Pumat was excited.

A visible jolt of electricity leapt from the Pumat’s hand into Beau’s, and she leapt back with a _loud_ pained noise. Her hand seemed a small bit darker than before, but nothing that wouldn’t go away with a bit of rest. After a bit of jokes and proud smiles, Caleb inquired further about another spell: _shield._

 _Gods_ he wanted that one so badly. His eyes widened in recognition, an excited grin on his face. “Caleb!” His hands clapped on the wizard’s forearm, startling him. He let out such a noise, and the newcomer winced, pulling back immediately. “Sorry. You _have_ to teach me that one. _Please._ ”

A few moments of surprised blinking followed by a nod. “ _Ja_ , sure, with time, perhaps.” That one was two hundred gold, which was _way_ more gold than he’d seen in the entire time he’d been coming to Pumat’s. Due to this, the firbolg didn’t take offense to the idea of losing out on another potential two hundred gold, and instead was pleased with their little friend’s excitement. Everyone was impressed by the amount spent.

After a bit of _further_ jokes that the newcomer felt left out on, the Pumat asked piped up, asking if that was all. The aforementioned man raised a finger, having returned to his list on parchment, flipping through a section of his tome. In the meantime, Nott piped up.

“Whatcha reading?” Of course. He didn’t pay much mind to the antics, instead handing one of the other Pumats the list so he could fetch the components. It ran him about ten gold for the lot, and he internally winced. He was now officially _poorer_ than he started.

The goodbyes started; generic from each of the Pumats for the majority of them, followed by a “See you soon, Rae!” from the frontward three and a “Stay safe!” from Prime in the back. _Gods_ he loved this place.

From there, it didn’t take long to return to the cellar of the Tap, wherein they put the dodecahedron in the lead-lined box, discussing further what to with hit. Nott suggested putting it in the bright pink bag on Jester’s back, which apparently was an extra-dimensional pocket. _The more you know._ Caleb said this was potentially a bad idea, as he didn’t know what would happen to it or the bag. Beau inquired the reasoning, and Caleb tried to explain, but Rae saw that amidst it all Fjord was in deep thought.

“I don’t necessarily feel my opinion holds much weight right now, especially since I’m not as much a learned man as Caleb-“ The tiefling piped up, drawing eyes. “I, personally, don’t believe this is a planar type of object, or at least not a type of object that might have that sort of cross-dimensional reaction, if that makes sense?” The red-haired man seemed a bit frustrated, either from the belief that he didn’t understand what was happening or the fact he dared challenge him when it came to the arcane. “Look, the dodecahedron had to come from _somewhere._ The Halls didn’t just have it sitting somewhere in a lead box more than likely, they probably hid it in a demi plane or something of the sort. The only issue was someone telling the Dynasty. I think it’ll be fine.”

Everyone else seemed frustrated, save Fjord, who was thinking very hard on the object. “I agree with Raelan, I don’t think it’s extraplanar or poses that kind of threat.” The man’s words surprised him, glancing up from the orb. This seemed to irritate the wizard even further.

“What, you have experience with things of this nature?” Caleb challenged, and Fjord put his hands up defensively.

“It just seems to me like a different sort of… arcana than the type that I’ve seen,” he attempted to explain, and the tiefling shrugged in half-assed agreement. Seeing that it was a losing battle, the wizard sighed.

“Okay, well, that’s fine,” he snapped in an almost childish manner. “I’m going to walk about two hundred feet away from you when you put it in that bag, but uh…” His hands began to shake, and as he noticed that, he eased, instead opting to put his hands in his long coat pockets.

It was that moment that Jester, having only heard confirmation, or perhaps specifically to fuck with her friend, put the lead-lined box into her haversack. A look of horror crossed the man’s face, but after a few moments where nothing happened, the woman piped up. “How long does it take to take effect if we’re all going to die?” Raelan couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question, or one to simply torture her friend for being wrong. Either way, it was hilarious and lowkey adorable.

Of course, it seemed to be the latter, and the wizard picked up on this, playing along in deadpan. “It takes about two weeks, so I guess we’ll find out.” Everyone began to chuckle, easing the tension of the room. After everyone calmed down, Fjord asked the burning question.

“So, what else we got?” At first, the newcomer thought it was about the list of things to do, but instead it was about the objects they had taken of the Kryn man. As everyone came to this same realization, he simply stepped away, pressing himself gently against a wall knowing he wouldn’t be partaking in any of the festivities.

Daggers were passed to Nott, a longsword between Fjord and Mollymauk with indecision and boots to Beau. Eventually, Mollymauk decided to hold onto it for ‘a friend.’ Everyone had an epiphany, and looked to the man.

“Wait, is she still a thing? She’s going to come back?” Beau piped up dubiously, and Raelan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Who?” Everyone in that moment realized something, and all glanced to one another, save the purple-skinned tiefling.

“Yasha. She’s the final member of our motley crew. A long-time friend of mine, but she’s a bit… squirrely. Takes off for stretches of time but always finds her way back somehow,” he explained and received a simple nod in response. “You’ll probably meet her soon.”

Everyone continued to discuss the placement of the sword, whether Yasha will _actually_ return, and if it would rather be useful in someone else’s hands. By the looks of it, none could really wield it, as they all had their own… quirks and weapon choices.

“I don’t think anyone can use it,” the pair of tieflings spoke at once, and the taller of the two turned to glance back to the third.

“Hey, warlock-boy,” he teased. “I’ve seen you with that staff. Think you could use a longsword?” The look in his eyes said all: he was asking only to prove a point, not to actually gain knowledge.

“I can barely use my staff,” he admitted. “I’m not exactly a weapons type of guy, sorry.” With a flourish, the purple man turned, proud to have won that argument.

“What do the boots do?” Jester piped up, and Beau seemed almost excited to show off her new, goth as fuck boots. They began talking about it, and the man fell back into being left out of it all.

 _“You’ve got me.”_ His celestial feline piped up, a gesture of sympathy.

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” He whispered. “At least there’s you.”


	2. The Evening Nip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After much discussion, the Nein decide to enter the Evening Nip to talk with the Gentleman, but a few interesting things happen first.

After much discussion about things that most certainly didn’t involve Raelan, the group decided to go to the Evening Nip and investigate after all. He put aside his frustrated feelings, burying the feelings of hypocrisy and ostracization, knowing it was _he_ who asked to join, and he alone who initiated their meeting. They had taken him in under _his_ request, not the other way around. He most certainly did not have the position to complain that after their talk of being a group and being equal last night, they completely left their new friend to follow them around like a lost puppy.

Molly seemed to understand, at least somewhat, doing his best to keep him company on the walks. He appreciated the man’s efforts and respected his boundaries. After some more conversations in the minutes walking to the dive bar, he learned some interesting things about his new companion, as well as the group as a whole.

He, as brought up in a discussion of pronouns and gender identity, didn’t really feel bothered with the whole spectrum of boy or girl. In all honesty, he never corrected anyone whenever they referred to him as one or the other. He’d had many simply refer to him as ‘it’ out of confusion, which he took _great_ pleasure from. He enjoyed being this androgynous genderfuck, and it suited him. In hindsight, that explained the look of excitement in his eyes when Raelan explained the disguise was a gender-affirmation issue.

He and Yasha- the one still absent- worked for a circus. It wasn’t that surprising, seeing how the purple tiefling dressed, but that was apparently also the means how the whole group ended up meeting. He took a strange pride in this as he recounted the tale of meeting the messy lot in a tavern, shoving posters in their faces and enticing them with his words. Of course, in the end that was the final show of the circus, which he still mourned, but understood it for what it was: a new beginning.

His previous suspicion was right: they hadn’t met even a month ago and were still as a group learning the dynamic between them. It helped him feel a bit better that aside from him and the missing member, _none_ of them knew each other outside a few months. Every single one of the six companions he’d made were learning to interact with one another just the same. It brought a reassuring comfort to the newcomer, and it was greatly appreciated.

As they approached the front of the dive bar, a wave of unease flooded his stomach. Was he really about to do this? For these strangers who had barely shown him kindness? A purple hand rested on his shoulder, an attempt at further comfort. _He would._ If not for the group, for Molly.

There were two guards on the outside of the bar, stood in a watchful, intimidating position. He could tell from their gazes there wasn’t an ounce of trust for these colorful newcomers. The most of them didn’t pay any mind to this fact, but did seem intrigued by the two patrons across the bar from one another. It was curious, certainly, but he attributed this to the fact they’d been there prior and he hadn’t.

The bartender was a dwarven man, his beard seemingly partially singed from flame. Bizarre, certainly, yet also intimidating. He drew closer to his fellow tiefling, feeling the need for further security. Having noticed the new patrons, he piped up, eyes narrowed. “Ah, good to see you again.” So they _had_ been there. “What can I get you?”

The dark-skinned woman approached him, back straightened as if she weren’t intimidated by the situation. Gently urging the blue girl to follow her, they glanced at one another, as if ensuring they were _really_ doing this. A silent nod, and they began to speak at the same time, breaking the cool silent agreement they had.

“Hi,” spoke Jester, as Beau said “’Sup.” That alone made Raelan want to chuckle, but he kept it down.

The man looked between the two of them, confused and a bit amused by this display. “Can… I get you anything?”

Beau nodded, placing a hand to her chest as she spoke. “I mean, I know I’d like a drink,” she then turned to Jester, hand gesturing in a silent _what about you?_

“Yes, I would like some milk.” Ah, so she wasn’t a drinker.

“But-“ Beau piped up in a way that somehow made the bystander’s anxiety spike. “Unfortunately, we have no coin.” The furrow of the bartender’s brow _seriously_ made him want to bolt. “However, we are willing to offer many gifts.” That seemed to register in the man’s brain, his eyes narrowing curiously as he leaned forward with suspicion.

“Right. Well, then.” His eyes darted around to the group of seven, seeming to judge them over. “Take these gifts with you.” With that, he turned around, eyes darting to everyone as he stepped into the back room. After a beat, the tiefling woman glanced to her friend, confused.

“Do… do we follow him?” She asked in an attempt to be hushed.

“I’m so scared right now,” Nott muttered to Caleb beside her, and everyone seemed to nod in agreement. As a group, they all reluctantly moved forward, the ostentatious man glancing back at his new friend to see if he should follow. He did, sticking close behind the taller man as if his presence alone would shield him from the dangers of their actions.

The storage closet was quite small, with not everyone being able to fit in at first. It was almost comedic, really, the large group of seven attempting to be stealthy and failing miserably. It wasn’t until it was their turn to enter did Raelan see the man up close, or even the trapdoor with stairs descending far beneath the ground. He and his ally were last, thus the moment he stepped enough into the chamber that his head or horns were no longer in danger, the trapdoor closed behind.

As they descended the spiral steps, the gentle sound of violin and lute grew ever so louder; a jovial, excitable energy that was at first surprising. Voices could be heard, as well as laughter and the clinking of glasses. The sound should bring some peace of mind, but all it did was further stress the man. The unease in his chest worsened, and the newcomer looked fearfully at the taller man.

 _“What if they go on the offense because they can see my disguise?”_ He reached his hand forward, pulling his companion to a stop to discuss the matter before going further.

Molly gently gazed down at the man- even a few steps down, his height was greater, horns aside- and attempted to seem comforting. _“If they can see your disguise, they should be able to see the truth as well. You’re not trying to deceive them, just yourself. Stay out of danger and it won’t be an issue.”_ His words helped quell the anxiety some, but not entirely. It’s not as if he would have a _choice_ to be out of danger, but he did know that his Mistress helped alter the incantation to reflect damage, so the flaw that got him caught with his new allies shouldn’t be of issue.

“Thank you.” The whisper drew a gentle smile on the circus man’s lips as well as a nod. His hand eased, and the pair continued to descend, albeit a bit more hurried to make up for lost time.

The light from the subterranean tavern grew brighter and brighter, until over the heads of his allies Raelan saw the stone-set room and a portion of its patrons. A gruff fellow was gazing up at their entry from a rounded table just before the staircase, a defensive look to his eyes. Currently, he was the only one who noticed, but by the time he followed the rear, every single one of the dozen or so people within the room cast their gazes upon them, all with the same defensive suspicion the first held.

He didn’t know when he’d placed his hand on his friend’s wrist, but if the other noticed, he hadn’t reacted.

One of the persons was a feline woman, covered in black, panther-like fur, who spoke up after the last of them arrived. “Halt, friends. I do not recognize-“ Their eyes widened with recognition upon spying the man he was currently attached to. “Lucien?” Fear struck the red-eyed man, and just from the touch he could tell every muscle in Molly’s body tensed just before pulling his wrist free from his new friend.

Everyone began to panic from that, eyes widened with a realization that was happening, though it seemed Raelan was the only one to sense it from the man addressed. An unusually fake smile- one so convincing that if he hadn’t picked up on the panic, he wouldn’t have realized it weren’t real. He tried to push himself forward, to try and talk to the man, but eased when he saw the brief glance that spoke all he needed to know.

_Just play along._

The others didn’t see this, looking at their friend in surprise and a conflicted joy at the possibility of learning more of their friend. “You’re alive!” The tabaxi spoke, rushing towards him with an overwhelming relief. At first, he didn’t know what to do, and wanted to play it off with a beaming smile.

“Oh, sorry, friend, I’ve got one of those faces people tend to recognize.” His words weren’t convincing to _anyone_ ; he was an insanely memorable person, there wasn’t any possibility he could be mixed with a stranger.

The black-furred stranger seemed to think this too, responding as if his words were no more than a joke. The disbelief in her face, she breathed heavily, looking towards the group as if to judge what to do next, she seemed to go only with her emotions, racing forward and engulfing the taller man in a large hug. “Lucien!”

A strange jealousy came over the bystander. He didn’t know where it came from, or the reasons for such, instead opting to brush it off as protective instinct. _“What should I do?”_ He projected.

 _“Just go with it.”_ The same response, almost as if it weren’t directed to him.

Shortly thereafter, she pulled away, hands lingering on his shoulders. “It has been too long, two ye-“

“Far too long!” Molly interrupted, panic in his breath.

“Two years!” She finished with a laugh. One of her hands reached up towards his hair, running her fingers through it for a moment. “Look at you! You grew out your hair!”

“Ah yes it’s been quite an interesting two years.”

At that moment, Raelan heard movement behind him, and whipped around, a fear in his chest. A very tall, muscular, pale woman stood with long black hair, edges bleached white. A fear filled his eyes, but she didn’t seem to pay him much mind. Instead, he turned his attention back to the spectacle, instincts begging him to push the tabaxi away and protect her new friend. He didn’t, though, obeying the command put forth by his ally.

“We’ll catch up,” the purple man lied. “We need a table, we need drinks for me and my compatriots!” He further requested, eyes darting around. His eyes dimmed upon seeing the discomfort in the newcomer’s eyes, reaching out his arm as an extension of his gesture. The red man took the opportunity to draw closer.

At that gesture, the woman calmed, the smallest hint of heartbreak in her eyes as she stepped back. “Of course, you-“ Her tone sounded fake for that split second, almost as if she was trying to not seem upset. “These are your friends now?” When she said that, her eyes seemed to land directly on the red man. This made him very, very uncomfortable.

“Its-“ His friend picked up on the tone in her voice. “It’s a long story and I can’t tell you everything right now. You know how it is.” An interesting phrase, one that showed some intimacy despite the vagueness of it.

Her eyes downcast, she nodded. “Very well.” As she turned around, the newcomer saw a large figure, larger than the random woman; an ogre, it seemed, with patchwork hide armor and an insanely large maul at their side. This ogre did _not_ seem to like the group of strangers, but was reluctantly trusting the familiar tabaxi.

With the brief opportunity awarded to them with the movement of the black-furred woman, the tall tiefling clapped a hand on Fjord’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper. Due to the proximity alone he could hear the words spoken, emphasized by the tremble in his hand as he did so. “I’m sorry, this is my nightmare, please just go with it? It’s Lucien. Pass it on.” Without even a second to process the information, he began to turn back, though his red orbs landed on the pale woman with a relieved yet nervous laugh. “Yasha!” He exclaimed, providing the necessary context for the newcomer to understand.

Of course, Nott shrieked, as she did, and the woman greeted them, a confused expression on her face. “Hey! So?” Her attention was entirely focused on her long-time friend.

“I’m apparently Lucien from two years ago,” he explained, eyes seeming to pop in a _do you get it_ kind of way. “From two years ago.” His voice escaped through gritted teeth. There was something the two of them knew that the rest didn’t. “It’s Lucien, _remember?_ It’s been ages.” Punctuating that statement, having noticed the growing discomfort in his new ally’s body and taking note of his touchiness, the ostentatious man wrapped his arm around his smaller friend’s shoulders.

_“Thank you.”_

As if this were rehearsed, this Yasha played along. “Okay, it’s been a minute,” she confirmed, though her attention wasn’t focused on that aspect of the situation. She pointed her finger towards the rest of the group. “Hey, you guys walked right past me in the bar upstairs, so I just decided to…”

Everyone piped up at that point, save Mollymauk and Raelan, who seemed to share a silent glance. The purple’s gaze to the smaller’s was evident, asking confirmation that he understood the situation, to which he only nodded.

“-I’ve been right behind you the whole time, I don’t know how you didn’t know I was here,” the woman piped up, almost comedically. Honestly, the red man didn’t even want to think about it, as he could’ve _sworn_ he was the last one in.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Molly spoke, interrupting everyone else.

“I’m glad to see you too, Mollymauk,” she returned with a gentle smile, placing her hand on his other shoulder.

“Lucien.”

“Right.” A silence fell over them. “Who’s the… the newbie?” She inquired, a reminder to everyone that there were, in fact, now eight of them.

“A new friend,” Caleb responded, seeming to take note of the fellow mage’s existence for the first time since the group reunited. That would’ve almost hurt his feelings, but he understood that he had been clung to Mollymauk nearly the entire time. “Raelan, meet Yasha. She’s a formidable warrior, I’m sure you’ll get along fine.” It felt like there was a bit of sarcasm in the statement, but he couldn’t quite place where.

“Oh? Are you a warrior as well, then?” She asked, and he shook his head.

“Not really, I’m more of a… a spellslinger,” he admitted, gesturing to the tome on his belt. She nodded, and a brief silence fell as everyone reminded themselves there was a more pressing situation.

“I don’t mind rolling with this name Lucien,” Fjord whispered to Molly, who quickly grew just a little tense once the attention was on him again. “But does it bring any extra trouble with it?” It was a bit frustrating to the newcomer that they didn’t yet put it together that _Molly didn’t know._ It didn’t take a genius, or so he thought.

“We’ll find out,” the man replied vaguely, the three words speaking volumes. “I’ll explain later.”

“And it all makes sense to you?” Caleb inquired softly, asking the question of the day. The man’s red eyes widened with emphasis as he only repeated the words he’d just finished saying.

“I’ll explain later!”

And Raelan trusted him. He’d heard the conversation from the night before about trust and whatnot, and wholeheartedly believed that Mollymauk wouldn’t put the seven others in danger if he knew.

Beau, on the other hand, seemed to be having a _great_ time with her adversary’s discomfort. “This club is _awesome_ ,” she remarked.

“I hate you.”

Then began the banter, but Mollymauk didn’t seem to care. He was stressed enough without the shenanigans of his allies, instead opting to turn himself and his attached friend back to face the tabaxi- when a hand claps drawing everyone’s attention her way. She stood at a table, seemingly large enough for the now _nine_ of them: “This way, I found a table for everyone!” She announced, and the party followed behind.

Admittedly, Raelan tried to check out for most the following conversation, instead opting to seat himself between Mollymauk and Caleb, waiting impatiently for drinks. He was _not_ prepared for any aspect of this situation and focusing on it only seemed to make the pit in his stomach swell like a rot. At the table he sat, tome out to the section of lose papers, and began taking notes of the situation across from Beauregard.

 _Nonagon._ He heard that word and it baffled him. Instead of referring to him as _Lucien_ , she began to refer to him as _nonagon._ It was apparently this Lucien’s _new_ name, which admittedly was a bit strange, but he tried not to think too hard on it, should the rot in his intestines grow beyond tolerance.

Additionally, apparently Mollymauk- or rather, this _Nonagon_ \- died. Simply through the brief contact through their knees under the table, he knew that phrase _terrified_ his new friend, for reasons that would _hopefully_ become clear soon. In a sly manner, the charismatic companion managed to get more information from the tabaxi, whose name _still_ hadn’t been revealed.

“Well…” she began. “It all went belly-up two years ago. You told us to scatter and vanish if it didn’t… you know… if things went wrong and wait until you returned.” Her eyes seemed to form the faintest hint of tears at the memory. “We buried your ass in the woods outside of the hideout, I mean-“ Gods, the emotions this woman must be feeling right now.

Apparently a mage from the capital was involved and had told ‘them’ that Nonagon was dead. Raelan took note of the slight tension in Caleb’s reaction upon hearing that, though he was unsure of the reasons and felt it best not to ask. He figured this woman had something to do with the Assembly, though, as that was the center of ‘mages from the capital’. Either way, this woman took ‘the book’ through some contract that had left the tabaxi’s group greatly unsatisfied.

There was a _Jurrel_ in the group, who was no longer. A Zoran, Ottis, and Tyffial were somewhere within the Empire. Apparently, though, she knew exactly where Tyffial was; she was in Nogvurot.

Caleb _thankfully_ managed to ask for her name: Cree. Of course, shenanigans followed, which took attention off Molly for a brief moment. Raelan used this opportunity to reach out to his friend, hopefully putting him a bit at ease.

 _“I trust you, Molly. It’ll be alright.”_ In response, he felt a hand squeeze his under the table. The sudden surge of intimacy after not even a _day_ was very overwhelming, especially after the abandonment he’d begun to feel, but now was most _certainly_ not the time to speak of it.

Apparently, they were the Tomb Takers, before Nonagon died.

After having just that bit more information, Mollymauk ran with it. He spoke with such confidence and skill that if you didn’t know he was bullshitting, you’d think he was just catching up with an old friend.

Everyone had more questions, this time directed at Cree. Some of them were less condusive towards the _play along_ goal, but at least it gave their friend time to rest. The more Cree talked of Nonagon and his work with them, the more the line between possible romantic interest and a cultish admiration blurred. It unsettled Raelan and he wasn’t even the target of these affections.

The euphoria slowly washed from her face, though, and the questions left the subject of Nonagon, instead towards the locale and their motives for being there. He could hear the subtle sigh of relief from their friend as he crashed just a little bit, resting his head on Raelan’s shoulder.

Reactions from the tabaxi and tiefling were vastly different. The former seemed somewhat confused, perhaps even heartbroken, whereas the latter felt an overwhelming blush creep across his body. He wasn’t _affectionate_ like that, having barely known the troupe a day, but he knew it was just the flirtatiousness of his friend’s personality. It didn’t keep the deep red from tinting his skin, though.

_“Hey Molly, what the fuck?”_

_“Don’t worry about it.”_ The words _certainly_ didn’t help, but he tried to just breathe instead.

Once the subject turned towards the Gentleman, however, the head lifted, and followed the tabaxi’s gaze towards said man; in the far back right corner of the chamber sat a tall, lithe man with light teal skin, jet-black long hair sitting at a well-carved mahogany table. Fittingly, beside him was a goliath woman who was likely his personal guard, but the air of authority from the _gentleman_ was more than enough to keep attention.

Mollymauk leaned forward, intent on asking some questions of the man, although interrupted by the aforementioned figure clapping his hands loudly. “So! We have company! Strangers in our midst.” The man righted himself in the chair, and Raelan felt the fear from the stairwell intensify. His eyes met the red of his affectionate friend, the color likely drained from his face. “Please, come before me. Present yourselves! I want to know who has graced us with their _majestic_ presence!” His hands were stretched outward, yet every compliment felt like a veiled threat. After none moved, his expression tensed. “Come, come!”

All those on the balcony above that had somehow gone unnoticed by the newcomer suddenly tensed, raising their long, stick-esque weaponry as if it were a ranged device. Personally, he’d never seen such a thing, but the unknown terrified him more than anything else.

“It’ll be alright, just follow my lead,” Mollymauk whispered, leaning into his companion’s space as he rose to his feet, gesturing for the rest of the crew to follow. He began to saunter over with his drink, the rest of the Nein following warily behind. It felt as if all the faith in him began to wane, especially as they could see the visible tremble in the disguised tiefling’s hands.

Everyone took their places on the long bench opposite the Gentleman, similar places as they had taken at the table across the room, sans Cree. There weren’t enough seats, so a few chose to stand instead, one of those being Caleb nearby their recent ally. The hanging, crazed gnome on the balcony really didn’t help the uneasy atmosphere.

“So!” The Gentleman spoke once more, eyes traveling over every one before him. “Introductions, please! I think I have an idea on who you are-“ His eyes lingered on Raelan for much longer than was comfortable. “-But I want to hear it from your mouths. Please, tell me.”

Thankfully, Fjord spoke up. “Humbly, we are members of the Mighty Nein.” Oh, it wasn’t an individual thing, thank Ioun. At that, the Gentleman seemed _very_ pleased.

“I knew it!” He cheered, which unsettled the newcomer even further. “I knew it!” A laugh as he slammed his hand on the table- a gesture that just about made the red tiefling break out into tears. He felt two hands on him at that: one on his right shoulder from Caleb, and one wrapped in his own under the table from Mollymauk. He was a bit surprised at the intimacy from the wizard, but appreciated it nonetheless. “Oh, this is a gracious day.” From there, he began to calm. “Very well. Welcome to the _real_ Evening Nip.” He gestured to the current chamber. “Pleasure to have you, each and every one of you. I’ve seen you around upstairs-“ His eyes narrowed to the new woman, Yasha. “-wandering and skulking a bit. I didn’t know you were part of this mighty troupe.” From there, his eyes landed on Raelan. “Or you, little adventurer of Zadash. A new member, I suppose?”

Oh, he _hated_ the feeling of being exposed like that. Molly’s hand tightened around his own, a silent _it’s alright._

“A round, please!” The gentleman shouted to the bartender; apparently there was some conversation he’d missed amidst his fear. “Alright, so. What brings such _esteemed_ adventurers to my pocket of the underworld?” The word seemed almost _taunting_.

“Well-“ Fjord began, clearing his throat. “We sought an audience, and to be frank, we thought we might find a little bit more of a warm reception than the one that we’re currently getting.”

Wait, _what?_

“Oh! I’m sorry.” The gentleman waved his hand, and the sticks were pointed away. “Habit. Safety, you understand.” The eyes lingered on Mollymauk this time, for some strange reason. Part of Raelan just couldn’t believe that worked.

“Oh, of course, easily understood.” The tense pleasantries continued until it came the moment to ask motives. “We mean to make ourselves of service, whether it be for the good of the city or…” Fjord glanced around. “…other endeavors. We are all relatively new here. We thought we would try to make as many introductions and have as many meetings happen as we could.” For part of that line, the Gentleman’s eyes narrowed in on the disguised tiefling, sensing something in the words that more than likely would complicate things a bit.

 _“He knows something. Either that I don’t want to be here or he thinks Fjord’s lying because I’m here,”_ Raelan panicked to Molly. _“I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed back-“_

“Interesting,” The gentleman spoke before the other tiefling could, which absolutely _terrified_ the anxious man at first. “I have one question before we get too deep in this conversation.” A slight, uncomfortable laugh. “How… did you find your way in here?”

The newcomer felt almost evil at the relief he felt.

The group looked amongst themselves, Beau opting to be the one to pipe up. “I’m… a bit of an… enthusiast of the underworld. So I… came across some information.” The gentleman made a gesture with his hand, urging her to continue. “Demedan got his order of bloodroot. It was really good,” she explained with a click of her tongue, not that it made any sense to the warlock.

“Demedan gave you this information?” A panic welled up in him, yet he didn’t even _know_ the man spoken of.

“No,” Beau admitted, trying to ease the tension a bit. “Demedan was… clumsy with his information.”

The teal man nodded with malicious understanding. “Equally dangerous, good to know.” He glanced back to the goliath. “Remember that,” he half-whispered, the tall person cracking their knuckles in response. “So. Interesting. Now you know the way in.” His eyes narrowed as he held the pause for an uncomfortable amount of time. “That’s dangerous, as we’ve just made acquaintances and you now know the direct path into my domain.”

 _Gods,_ it was hard to trust these people right now. He felt like any moment he was going to get assassinated and it was not a pleasant feeling.

“So, to make this a… comfortable conversation and possibly an arrangement going forward that we can all agree upon, I have one small request.”

 _It’s going to be a blood ritual,_ he joked to himself, trying to ease the tension within himself.

In the time he made that joke, Fjord spoke up in agreement. Cree was called, and she hurried over with an excitable smile, knowing that her Nonagon was there. She opened a leather satchel she did not have before, revealing an alchemist rack of a bunch of corked vials. His eyes widened with fear.

“I need, just- and bear with me, please- just a small bit of your blood.”

_Oh fucking shit it was a blood ritual._

“The reasoning being-“ He began to explain, seeing the fear in the little tiefling’s eyes. “If I can’t trust you, and you can’t trust me, how am I to know you aren’t going to turn me in immediately outside to the King’s Hall? And I need some means in case you just abscond with this information: perhaps make an arrangement with me and then leave town.” The reasoning made sense, but that didn’t explain WHY THE BLOOD. “I need to find you.” _WHAT DID THAT MEAN._

Thankfully, Fjord was much less panicked and was able to ask the questions fluently. “Oh, of course, and forgive my ignorance. This would be used to locate us?” He inquired, confused. “Is that what this is to be used for?”

“Oh, that is Cree’s speciality.” He blinked, trying to process the explanation as he felt Molly’s hand leave his. He began to connect dots: Molly used some sort of blood magic when he fought, if Cree was tied to his past somehow, it made sense she had some blood magic too? Everyone, including Cree, glanced to Mollymauk, who confirmed this.

“It is _definitely_ Cree’s speciality.”

“Eh, fuck it.” Fjord reached his hand out after biting his thumb, and the tabaxi flicked her finger. Blood trailed from the small wound, floating through the air and into one of the vials, filling about an inch despite the wound being a very small one. A small bit of conversation happened, all while Raelan’s head pounded. Molly seemed to trust this, as did Fjord, even if the rest seemed not so willing. He wanted so _desperately_ to run, to do something bold, to-

As Molly began to talk to Cree, creating minor terms with her, the younger tiefling pulled out his small dagger and run his thumb over the sharpened blade. It didn’t feel any more painful than a papercut- though those were an endless bit of agony- and a small bout of blood began to pool from the wound. Everyone, Mollymauk included, seemed surprised at the newcomer’s actions, and the tabaxi wordlessly filled the next vial easily.

Unlike Fjord’s tooth wound, it didn’t stop quite so nicely, and she muttered that he might want to cover it up. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized what he done, eyes wide, and he simply dug the tip of his thumb into a cleaner corner of his shirt, leaning forward due to stress. Molly was next, and once his vial was full he wrapped an arm proudly around his new companion. “Good job,” he whispered to him, saying nothing further than his company as the man came down from the high of adrenaline.

A few vials later and the satchel closes. “Fantastic, I really appreciate that,” the Gentleman spoke, and attention was turned away from the tabaxi. “So,” he continued. “An arrangement, you say?”


	3. Necessary Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident in the Evening Nip, the Nein sit down to have a discussion with Mollymauk. Raelan, meanwhile, begins to develop some interesting feelings.

After a tense afternoon in the underground tavern, the now-larger group made their way to their own tavern, in spite of the change of ownership. From the partially drunken conversations Raelan had witnessed, he’d grown to appreciate Yasha just as he did everyone else. She seemed a good ally, even amidst her bouts of running away. They’d even had a conversation to themselves, wherein the woman learned what the group did about himself and his abilities. She was a bit surprised at the tortoiseshell that suddenly appeared before her, but treated her gently nonetheless.

Now no longer surrounded by people who could no doubt kill them in their sleep, they’d begun to have a discuss important matters in the room shared by the purple and green men. It started with trying to get more information about Yasha, but the looming question of _what the fuck_ happened in the bar was vastly more important. The woman knew, but it wasn’t exactly her place to speak, but it was absolutely the fanciful tiefling’s, who sighed once the topic got brought up and shifted somewhat uncomfortably.

“Lucien, Noganon, what the fuck?” Fjord ended up saying, bringing the conversation back on topic. The other infernal man was positioned on the edge of the bed nearby the mentioned person, trying to have his presence be some sort of comfort. He even offered up his furred familiar, to which he simply glanced down, pet her on the head, and looked at the group, deciding how best to explain.

“Lucien sounds very ‘I’m trying to find myself’ by the way,” Beau remarked in an attempt to be a smartass. “Just throwing that out there.”

“No, that’s fair,” Molly sighed, eyes darting between the floor and his long-time friend. There was some banter at his expense, mostly to fill the air as he considered his words carefully. “So…” Everyone quieted down, but Molly’s hand was still trembling with uncertainty. “Well, I was born on the continent of-“ As he spoke, even in partial jest, he knew it felt stupid. “I really-“ He looked away, burying his face in his hands due to the discomfort.

“No, no, don’t stop,” Fjord offered in an attempt to make the conversation easier. “Just keep going.”

Nott offered her rusty flask, partially trying to be a jackass but also genuinely trying to be helpful. “I-“ The tiefling’s red eyes pleaded for help from Yasha, and she simply silently stared at him, gesturing in a way that spoke _take deep breaths. It’ll be okay._ “I genuinely thought I would have some bullshit together by now, and I’m really sort of stuck,” he admitted to his friend. The red-skinned man stayed quiet, studying the situation and taking note of everything in his head.

“Listen,” Yasha spoke gently over the chaos of the other’s banter. “I’ve never pushed you to talk about anything. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t owe us anything.” He sighed with an expression that spoke the opposite. _But I do, though._

Raelan reached out a hand, placing it on the taller man’s bicep, drawing his attention. The red eyes gazed upon him, and he nodded. _“It’s okay. I know it feels suffocating, I was here last night. I know its so much more personal for you, and I wish I could help. If you just need to think at me, I’ll patiently listen.”_ The man’s frustrated face curled into a slight smile as he reached out his hand, hovering it above the illusioned man’s head, showing the contact he wanted to make but understanding the boundaries set forth. The smaller man took his hand, aimed between the illusioned horns, and placed it on his scalp, showing him where was comfortable.

After the silent exchange, he pulled his hand away again, turning back to Yasha. “It’s dangerous, though. It’s officially dangerous.”

“What?” Fjord piped up again. “To tell us what you’re about to tell us? For us, or for you?” He asked.

“I don’t think it’s either,” Raelan finally spoke, looking to the group. “I think he means he has to tell us _because_ it’s dangerous.” Mollymauk silently nodded in agreement, and the others began an attempt of comfort by discussing the already-dangerous things they’ve done to show they weren’t worried about a potential danger. After a bout of laughter at Nott’s excitement at having three new vials- for no reason, as they were empty- the attention was drawn back on their friend.

“But seriously,” he agreed, sighing once more. “I’ve been part of a shady group. I’ve been dealing with shady friends for as long as I can remember. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about dealing with people that you can’t trust, it that you… have to trust them where you can and not trust them where you can’t.” He gestured broadly as he spoke. “I’m not saying that I know what I’m doing or anything, but… I don’t want anybody-“ He cut himself off with the click of his tongue, sighing again as he realized he was going on. “I want this to work,” he admitted. “I _need_ this to work.” Another sigh, glancing at Yasha as he leaned forward, beginning to speak. “I’ve not done this in a while. Alright.” He leaned forward, sitting on the bedpost next to Raelan.

“I noticed that she… kind of had the same…” The half-orc wiggled his fingers, a gesture to spark the word in his brain while also communicating it to others. “-influence over blood that you have, but different.”

Molly nodded, seeming to find this strange too. “Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?” He agreed, which only made the group more confused. “This might even be easier if you just ask questions. I really don’t know how to tell this story.”

Raelan’s hand shot up, hoping to ask the first one. Caleb spoke first, though, not waiting his turn. “Why do you have so many names?” The former let out an upset _hmph_ , not waiting his turn either.

“Can I say my theory?” He asked, almost demanding attention first. Molly seemed to favor that idea over the other, so he could correct what was wrong. “You’re not… the person that Cree buried. You died, but you don’t have any memories of before. All you know is the past two years since, am I right?”

The relief in the man’s eyes was _visible_ in his body language. “Fuck. Thank you, Rae.” He almost thought there were tears in his eyes.

“I mean, you didn’t recognize her _at all._ You’re not a person that can just… get mistaken for another. She said she buried _you_ two years ago, but you have no idea who she is. It… it makes sense that you died and woke up with amnesia.”

“I didn’t _die,_ ” Molly snapped, a bit frustrated even amidst his relief. “That implies that whoever went into the ground _was_ me. I… I woke up without any names, or any past, buried in the ground two years ago,” he began to explain, having a clear sense of direction now.

“In a box? In the dirt?”

“In the dirt,” he stated flatly, the imagery of suffocating in dirt terrifying the smaller tiefling.

“You are saying that you have _no_ memory?” Caleb asked, suspicious.

“ _My_ first memory, my oldest memory, is dirt in my face, underground.”

It was that moment Raelan felt a wave of magic pass through him, the final words of an incantation leaving Jester’s mouth. He’d honestly forgotten she was there, with how quiet she’d been today. Having no idea what the spell was, he did his best to resist the wave that tried to take hold in his chest, after a moment being able to keep it at bay. He glanced around, trying to gauge who else felt it, feeling a small bit of comfort hearing Jester’s attempt at an explanation. “I just wanted to play Truth or Dare, but without the dare, you know?”

Everyone, it seemed, save himself, Beau, and Fjord, had a furrowed brow look to their face as the magic took hold, unable to speak anything save the truth. An interesting spell, he noted. As an attempt to reassure everyone he was not longer lying, Mollymauk piped up.

“Alright, that’s not _entirely_ true. It’s a vague memory, but I don’t really remember it.” Not exactly the most… insightful twist, but certainly something. “It’s kind of all jumbled. It’s what I’ve been told, about some of it.” He huffed, biting his lip before he ended up admitting a truth he wasn’t ready for.

“So is that the ritual she was rambling about?” Beau asked, causing the tiefling on the bed to furrow his brow in slight confusion.

“I don’t know.” It was interesting, those three words under normal circumstances would’ve led to more suspicion, but instead it was a comfort that there wasn’t anything hidden behind them.

“So before you woke up in the dirt, nothing?” Fjord confirmed.

Again, a frustrated sigh. “There is no before. Whatever happened before is not me. It’s not part of anything-“ He cut himself off, eyes darting towards the ceiling in an attempt to explain in a better way. In some bizarre way, Raelan understood.

“I get it,” he spoke, a small bit of relief crossing the purple man’s face. “I mean, from a theoretical perspective, I’m not an amnesiac or something. But the dissociation, I understand.” He nodded, relieved.

“Like your life reset somehow, or you just don’t remember?” Nott piped up, curious and confused. Molly let out a noise that said it wasn’t quite either.

“Some asshole got buried in the dirt,” he snapped after another moment of silence. “Fuck him. I am enjoying what _I’m_ doing; I want nothing to do with that. Anything that came before, I was happy to just leave it be.”

“Yeah, but do you have any theories for what happened before?” Raelan understood it was a curiosity, but there was an anger burning inside him that nobody was _understanding_. Perhaps moreso than Mollymauk himself.

“Do you guys not get it?” He snapped, raising his voice for the first time since they met. Everyone was surprised. “Molly doesn’t give a shit about whoever that man was. That man is _dead._ Molly isn’t. Molly wanted to just live his life and not worry about a dead stranger. He didn’t think about it, he didn’t care, the only reason he’s even _thinking_ about it now is because whatever that man before did, it left an impact on people, and now _he_ has to live with it. Not Lucien, Molly.” That seemed to silence many of the questions that were bound to follow.

The purple man placed a gentle hand on his irritated companion’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly to show appreciation, but also that it wasn’t necessary. It almost seemed that by Raelan getting angry, the other man didn’t have to be. He was much calmer than before, and it was… interesting.

“Two years ago,” Fjord asked, hopefully following a different vein. “Did you have all those tattoos?”

“No. Not exactly,” he clarified after feeling the pull of the spell.

“Any of them?” Nott piped up.

“Some of them, yes.” He buried his hand in his face, seemingly growing burnt out from the spells and the questions and the explanations. Everyone seemed to notice this, as well as Molly’s inclination not to answer completely, they backed off for the time being.

“How much time passed between waking up in a dirt box and the circus?” Caleb asked, and the lavender man seemed much more willing to answer questions pertaining to _him_ , not the man before.

“Days. I was a bit out of it,” he admitted. “It’s hard to remember. I wasn’t speaking, really. It’s all…” He trailed off before quickly jumping onto a better train of thought. “Do you have memories from your childhood?” He asked, somewhat directed at Caleb more hypothetically than specifically him. The general consensus was yes. “It felt like that. It’s all bright and more meaningful than it should be… ah…” He seemed to trail off again, trying to explain. “There was just nothing.” Again, he buried his face in his hand. “I was practically catatonic; I was barely speaking.”

“Did you wake up to people, or alone?” Beau inquired gently. At least she seemed to understand this was not a time to be a dick.

“Alone,” he replied, as if the answer should be obvious. At that, Raelan reached for his free hand, placing it in both of his in an attempt to be comforting. It was _very_ strange how touchy-feely he was; he wasn’t used to it so early, and it had been a while. That was a later mystery, though, and instead he would just enjoy it where he could. The tiefling didn’t take his hand away, only accepting the gesture.

“Are you a good guy?” Caleb piped up. A long silence passed as Molly contemplated a way to answer the question within the parameters of the spell. Eventually, an answer came.

“I’d like to think so.” _Wouldn’t we all?_ Raelan muttered to himself, coming to the realization that Molly’s thumb was rubbing itself across the tiefling friend’s fingers; was he trying to comfort himself or Raelan?

“Why did she seem like she looked up to you so much?” Fjord asked, and the smaller tiefling bit his tongue, holding himself back from shouting again _that wasn’t him_.

“I don’t know,” Molly simply repeated, pressing his thumb down on his friend’s fingers. “I don’t know who that was. I’ve never heard the name Lucien before, or that… other name. I’ve never heard any of it.” The fact the spell was now under effect made it significantly easier for everyone to believe him- not that the red tiefling didn’t.

Yasha spoke up now, surprisingly. “I didn’t realize you didn’t. You did a good job at pretending.” Her voice was gentle, a comfort he was surprised to find.

“When she recognized him, he started _trembling_ ,” Raelan whispered, though nobody heard him save the mentioned man, who squeezed his hand tighter.

“Yeah, well. I like pretending. Pretending’s great,” he exclaimed. His voice seemed to catch itself as he tried to find words to further the point. “Who _cares_ where anybody came from?” The words were said with near disgust.

“How do you know she actually thinks it’s you and not, you know, maybe she just mistook you for someone actually named Lucien?” Many of the people in the room huffed with amusement at the question.

“That’s possible, except, of course, she had weird… blood powers,” Molly pointed out, humoring her for just a moment.

“So this happens to you.” It felt more a statement than a question.

“A few… months after I came to, I started noticing I could do things, knew things I didn’t necessarily know I knew.” A weird statement, but one that made sense given the context.

“Are you talking about your abilities?” Caleb inquired.

“Yeah… I can…” His eyes darted around before landing on the dagger on Raelan’s belt- the same one he’d used to cut his thumb earlier. “Can I see that dagger?” Without another word, he pulled it from it’s sheath, handing it up to the strange man. It worked out, as to do so he had to pull his hands away from the other’s lavender one, freeing him up for the demonstration.

With a flourish, he sliced the blade through his forearm before sticking it into the bedpost where he once sat. A large cluster of moisture solidified around the outside of the blade, encrusting it in red-tinted ice shards that stuck out the side of the blade, mist dissipating away. _So that’s how that works,_ Raelan thought, eyes wide as he studied both the dagger and the wound his friend had made in himself for any sign of where the magic could’ve come from.

“That’s amazing,” Nott stated, although in a more flat tone than an excited one. “I would ask about how you discovered that, because that would not be something I would ever just do, just to see-“ At those words, a heartbreaking epiphany struck the man’s chest, eyes wide as he glanced between the wound and the man.

 _“You-“_ He couldn’t even find the words to project them to his new friend, the man barely making eye contact in response.

“Oh no, I can. We’re here, this is happening. That’s fine.” The purple hand was still clutching the handle of the dagger, his long sleeve falling down his arm. Wanting to confirm his theory, the red-skinned man glanced up at his friend, seeking permission before he traced his fingertips up the man’s wrists, feeling many, _many_ scars. How many of these were Lucien, how many were Molly? How many were for combat and how many were just pained? The questions raced in his mind, and realizing no answer was satisfactory, he pulled his hands back, placing them in his lap and glancing away, ashamed to have dared.

“Question,” Nott began again. “Go back two beats. You said ‘who cares about what happened before?’” Something of the sort, perhaps. Molly nodded, waiting the rest of it. “Do you… really not want to know your past?” Not even a second after the inquiry left her lips, she interjected “Answer truthfully.” As if anyone needed reminding the spell was up.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he spoke. “I really don’t.” Unsurprising, yet somehow painful. “Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with that.”

Something of the wording struck the investigative part of Raelan; the part that captured the Knowing Misstress’s interest. How much of that lack of desire was out of fear?

He continued. “Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel got when I… the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it.” The man pulled back from the group, standing back against the wall almost as if it were a defensive mechanism. “I was happy! I… liked the circus! The circus was great!”

A pause filled the room as the words sunk in. At least, until Jester piped up, leaning forward with excitement. “Oh! I have a question!” A look of almost… fear came across Molly’s face, it was somewhat comedic. “Is there anyone in the group you find super attractive?” Of _course._ Silence as everyone was reeling from that change of direction, followed by the answer.

“Yes.”

 _Ioun_ , why did his heart race at that?

Jester giggled, rolling her eyes. “I was asking _Yasha_ silly!” The lavender man’s cheeks flushed a light red, but he played it off as if he weren’t. Yasha’s eyes widened in realization that attention was now on _her._

“Yes, of course there are people here that I think are… very… attractive and charming,” she began to explain, growing steadily more awkward as she spoke. “But that doesn’t mean that I will act on that,” she clarified, and Jester’s face dropped with dissatisfaction. Molly was able to quickly recover from that, but Rae was still suspiciously silent.

“You can be monosyllabic if you like with these people,” he reminded her.

“Molly,” Fjord spoke up, to which he received a disinterested hum. “In the years that have gone by-“ Rae could hear Nott begin to banter in the background, but he didn’t much care for it. “Has anyone called you any other names besides Molly, Lucien, or…” He trailed off so he didn’t have to actually say the name he didn’t remember.

“Nonagon.”

“Yeah, manamana.” Everyone chuckled a bit at that, Molly included.

“Not without me feeding it to them first,” he admitted, which was a strange way to answer the question. “I mean, I’ve conned people. We’ve all conned people. I’ve used other names before.”

“No, but did they know you? Did they come up and give you a name?” Fjord clarified.

Molly shook his head. “This was the first time that’s happened,” Yasha spoke, and the man gestured to her in agreement.

“I…” A pause. “A lot of this was in hopes that maybe it would never happen, keep moving, keep quiet.” _Gods_ , the newcomer couldn’t imagine living life like that, but Molly didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“You don’t know anything about the ritual she was talking about?” The half-orc asked again, needing reassurance of the fact.

“Nothing.” Silence. “But… I’ll say this.” With that, he handed the knife back to it’s owner, who put it back in it’s sheath. As that happened, he slid his forearm across the jagged edges of the wooden bedframe, and not even a second later it glowed a bright light, almost as if a smaller light spell. “This is new.”

“Yeah, that’s a hell of a thing,” Fjord admitted, looking at it with interest. Meanwhile, the red tiefling was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the number of self-inflicted wounds his purple friend was collecting in this conversation alone. He glanced around, attempting to find some makeshift bandage in his things, and as such missed the next few statements.

“Yasha,” he heard. “How much of this was under wraps? You knew any of this, in your time in the circus with…?”

“I… knew that he woke up and that he did not know who he was… uh… but this was the first time that this has happened; where someone has come to us and recognized him from his past.” Her response was slow, but not out of deceit. As Jester leaned forward with a cheeky grin on her face, a small cloth was found in the newcomer’s bag.

“Molly, what about… have you ever pooped your pants?” She inquired, causing a few chuckles from the room. Raelan pressed the cloth to the tiefling’s knife wound, figuring if there was a splinter the closer one, he didn’t want to risk pushing it deeper. The red eyes darted from one tiefling to the other, lingering on the man’s actions before returning to the girl, accepting his friend’s attempt. The answer was somewhat humorous, causing even Yasha to chuckle until Nott piped up again.

“I’m sorry to belabor this, but… what if you had a good life before this? What if you were famous or rich or had friends or family?”

Molly was growing frustrated with the goblin’s persistence. He gently took the cloth from his nearby friend, keeping it pressed to his arm, before stepping forward and raising his voice some. “Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me.” A small pause to sink it in. “This is _mine._ I don’t _want_ anything from that other person anymore. That person is someone else. I don’t want _anything_ to do with it. I did not feel good coming out of that. I…” He seemed to realize his aggression and let some of his tension go, burying his face in his unoccupied hand. “It was…” He glanced back to Yasha before continuing. “Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound. I am told, although I don’t entirely remember this part, that I only said the word ‘empty’ over and over again for the first week.”

 _Fuck._ That sounds heartbreaking.

“Empty?” Almost everyone repeated in unison. Their response was a simple shrug.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“M.T. or empty?” Caleb clarified.

“Empty. I don’t know. I barely remember.”

The wizard glanced towards their clerical friend. “Jester, I feel your touch on this conversation, is this all accurate?” It infuriated Raelan that after all this talking, they _still_ had to double check if it was true. He didn’t realize he’d clenched his hand into a fist until he felt Molly’s hand on his, trying to calm him down. _When did I get so emotional?_

“As far as I can tell, yes,” Jester beamed. “He did indeed poop his pants.” Even the newcomer chuckled at that.

“And the rest?”

“Oh! That too, yes.” After this, the realization of what was said sunk in, and Nott simply repeated the word again.

“That sounds terrible,” Mollymauk piped up, taking his hand from Raelan’s again. The latter’s face fell for a split second before overcompensating for the change. “I don’t _want_ to remember anything. I don’t want anyone else’s baggage in my head and I don’t want anybody else’s problems, thoughts, ideas. I like _this_ person, right now is a _good_ person. Is a _fine_ person. Is a _happy_ person.”

“She kept referencing a book.” He gestured vaguely, and Fjord reminded Beau that he’d already asked. “What if we could find the book?”

“Nope,” he quickly snapped. “I don’t want it.”

“Well,” Caleb piped up again, leaning forward. “I will say, I am a little concern about… you know, loose ends coming to bite you and us in the butt. _However_ …”

“We all have a few, I assume,” Molly reminded.

“I believe in… second starts, and that’s enough for me.”

“Can you imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything about anything that had happened to you so far?” The ostentatious man proposed. Caleb, Nott, and Fjord responded in the negative, whilst Beau replied affirmative. Raelan let out a wistful sigh. “Why am I not surprised?” His eyes were narrowed at the woman but were a bit surprised by the man beside him’s reaction.

“What do you mean _yes_?” Nott asked, confused. “You can imagine what it’s like to not feel _anything_ before this moment? Have you died before?” It was a very suspicious question, yet the red man didn’t see it necessary.

“I begged for that chance, not too long ago,” the shorter tiefling explained, drawing attention back to him. “To not be held back by your traumas or your mistakes, only to be able to wake up and be a better person? I would’ve killed for that.” A solemn mood lingered in the room after that, with Molly wrapping a comforting arm around the man to pull him into his side. He didn’t understand was was so strange about that. Didn’t everyone?

“It’s _very_ freeing,” the man of the hour piped up, drawing attention away. “It’s the best thing… it’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found… peace in… building a new person.” _Gods._ “The Moonweaver…” Another silence.

“You know… just because you know about your past doesn’t mean you have to be beholden to it,” Beau spoke; an attempt at both convincing Mollymauk to take interest in who was before, as well as trying to comfort and reassure Raelan about whatever happened to him. Neither of them knew what to say, and the latter decided to say nothing.

“What if it feels that I owe it something?” The former questioned, a phrase that felt surprisingly deep?

Beau seemed almost frustrated by the perceived ignorance. “You don’t owe your past shit. If I don’t feel anything about my past, but I still remember it and I still don’t give a fuck about where I came from, then why should you care about shit you don’t even remember?” Fair enough. Molly sighed, not knowing how to answer at first, and Fjord commented how layered the question was.

“I spent… two years before I met you all… cajoling people, occasionally ripping them off, occasionally doing a good turn here or there. Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit. It’s good, it’s happy, and it makes other people happy.”

“But it’s not who you are,” Nott muttered in protest.

“It is _exactly_ who I am,” he snapped, arms tensing around the smaller man.

Fjord piped up with an interesting question. “Can I ask you, when you’re praying over your swords at night, are you actually doing anything?”

Having never known these people outside the past day, only knowing what he’s learned of Molly through their conversations and having no knowledge on the mechanisms of his blood magic, Raelan felt wholly confident that it was all fake and was just to fuck with Fjord.

Molly seemed a bit amused by this. “Well, do you know who the Moonweaver is?” He inquired, avoiding the question entirely. The inquirer answered in the negative. “Excellent,” he responded as if he were about to pull off his biggest scheme. “The swords are cheap carnival glass. There’s nothing special about them.”

“So it’s _you_ that’s special, not the swords.”

“That’s true,” Molly responded, and after a moment of reflection, Raelan saw what the question of the Moonweaver might’ve done to divert attention to the truth.

“Molly,” Beau piped up suspiciously. “You seem like you have a pretty solidified identity for someone who… has only had consciousness for two years.”

He shrugged. “Things came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and… joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.”

“’Things came back quick,’” she noted, eyes narrowing a bit. “Do you feel like there’s still remnants of whoever you once were that have informed who you are now?”

“Maybe?” He responded after a reflective pause. “I feel… tinges of things on occasion, nothing I like.”

A pause again. “If you always lie and bullshit, how are we ever going to believe you?” Nott piped up, resulting in a chuckle from Raelan.

“Because I always lie and bullshit.” It was a simple answer but spoke volumes. Beau agreed with an understanding nod.

“Cheers to bullshit.” She leaned forward and clinked her flask with the one in Molly’s hand, which he realized was still Nott’s.

“I may be a liar but I’m never a betrayer,” the lavender man spoke as the flasks collided. “I’m honest in my work, and I believe in doing a good turn.” He took a sip from the drink again. “I’ve never cheated you out of money. I’ve never robbed from you. I stayed with that circus for two years, I know how people treat each other. It’s important.” A pause before he turned to the goblin. “All that stuff you told me before? I’ve got to admit, I didn’t even listen to any bit of it, I was just trying to teach you a lesson. I don’t care where you’ve been. I don’t care what terrible things any of you have done. You’re here now. This is how it works.”

It was honestly an invigorating sentiment after the revelations of earlier.

“Molly?” Jester piped up quietly, and Beau laughed, knowing what was coming.

“Yes, darling?” Raelan had to blink at his reaction to that one.

“I have a question,” Jester continued.

“Of course.”

“Can you really read fortunes?” By the look that came across everyone’s face at that question, he figured there was a history there that he could only guess. The blue tiefling was an innocent sort, so he gathered that Molly likely told her fortune and she believed it wholeheartedly. There was no way he was going to break her heart.

“I use fortunes… to tell…. people what I see in them. But sometimes, _sometimes_ , I feel like maybe there’s something that tickles the back of my head, I will admit.” Everyone was _shocked_ at that answer.

“You have a feeling?” She gasped, and he nodded.

“Some days.” Some took to that worse than others.

“Don’t believe him, Jester,” Beau said sadly, upset that he dared deceive her naïve friend. The red eyes flickered from the dark-skinned woman to the littler blue tiefling.

“Am I lying to you?” He spoke with such certainty. It took Raelan a moment, but he saw what he did. He’d explained previously about the feelings, he just managed to say a truth that was unrelated to make it seem as if he were. _Clever bastard._ A strong urge tugged at the man’s chest with that realization, yet he didn’t know what.

“I do feel like you actually, weirdly, have a gift for that,” Yasha piped up affectionately, which only solidified the idea in the young tiefling’s mind.

“I always try to be helpful when I turn cards for people,” he admitted.

“You ever think you could actually be doing damage, though?” Beau all but hissed. “Setting people on false paths?” He took a moment to answer that, and the newcomer wondered what her damage was.

“People are looking for a path, they’re looking for a path. And I’ll tell you- and this is true- I did my best every town I went to, and every town I left, no matter how they treated me- and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect-“

“Some people are vulnerable and looking for answers,” Beau snapped.

Unphased, the man continued. “I left _every_ town better than I found it.” That seemed to silence the woman and in victory the tiefling took another swig of the flask.

“Which tattoos are the old ones?” Nott piped up; Raelan was thankful for the change of topic. “I mean, I don’t want to see your naked body or anything-“ _That makes one of us._ Wait, what? “But do you have some?”

For a moment, the man seemed to consider even answering the question. He glanced to his long-time friend, beginning to ask a question before just leaning back, sliding the collar of his shirt down to reveal a patterned tattoo on this right side; shoulder, arm, chest, neck, with likely much more down the sleeve. It seemed to be a peacock, feathers reaching all the way up. One of the eyes of the feathers, though, was a bright crimson red. Eyes seemed to show recognition, though he didn’t understand why. There were more of those red eyes, one on the snake on his palm and the opposite side- it seemed that those eyes were there before he added the designs so they made sense. After another moment, he pulled his entire right sleeve up to reveal a fourth in a floral arrangement. A few moments passed before he let it fall and he spoke up.

“I tried to cover them, but they wouldn’t take ink. So I just did my best.” Raelan’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, reaching a hand out as if asking permission to take and study the man’s hand. He accepted it, so the less astute of the academic crew wasted no time pulling it closer, running his fingertips over it, trying to figure out _what these tattoos were._ On the other hand, the wizard seemed only to study the designs, trying to figure out where they might relate.

While this discussion happened, Jester piped up again, this time turning to her wizard friend. “Caleb~” she sang, pulling him from his thoughts. “I have a question for you~” He sighed. “Do you shave your butt?” A few chuckled erupted, and Caleb seemed absolutely taken aback. Raelan decided to tune everyone out, continuing to examine the man’s hand as he continued talking with the others about one thing or another.

“Is there anything about you that you don’t want us to know?” Fjord asked after the reminder there were only a few minutes left of the spell.

“Yes,” came the simple answer, before everyone’s stares expecting more drew it out of him. “Everything. I like the safety of it, and if I had my way, this would’ve been a conversation for a later date. But I need to protect you-“ The newcomer could’ve _sworn_ the red eyes darted to him in that moment. “-and myself from whatever that is, so you need to know that that is a wildcard.”

“I appreciate that,” Fjord said, and a silence filled the room before more banter followed.

“I feel like we should do this every night!”

Oh _no._


	4. A Quick Trip to Pumat's (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, the Nein decide another trip to the Invulnerable Vagrant is necessary. Raelan, meanwhile, is deep in thought, trying to process a lot about his newfound situation.

Due to the fact the group now had nine people to house in four rooms, with all but Yasha decided where to stay, her and the newcomer ended up sharing a room. It was a decent night’s rest, although Raelan had to remember to keep his conversations with his familiar silent as to not seem bizarre or disturb the resting warrior. When he finally fell unconscious, he was glad to get away from Amethyst’s playful bickering about his alleged crush on what was essentially a stranger.

When it came to breakfast, everyone enjoyed some delicious bacon and eggs and other foods that distracted the newcomer from any banter. Despite his somewhat lithe stature, he was able to eat more than his serving, of which the group paid for, having ignored his pleads that _he could cover it._ “It’s only fair,” Caleb piped up. “You have watched us come into a few sums of money, yet have received none.” It was a nice gesture, certainly, of which he was silently grateful for. He realized that with an upcoming combat, it might be best to change his familiar’s form, and he barely had enough money to cover that.

As if reading his mind, the wizard spoke up about the need to visit the Invulnerable Vagrant, likely due to said influx of money. After some discussion, everyone save Beau, Jester, and their tag-along were going, especially Yasha, who had yet to meet the cozy shopkeepers.

It wasn’t lost on Raelan that this was likely the third time in half a week he and the crew were visiting the Pumats. It wasn’t a bad thing, just a strange one. Fjord and he had an interesting discussion on the way there about the former’s magic, inquiring as to the means and mechanics of such. He explained he didn’t exactly know, it just _happened_ , but due to it he was able to wield his weapon efficiently and cast some spells. He hoped to possibly attend the Academy in Rexxentrum, as they may have some insight as to his… condition?

Surprisingly, upon their arrival, two of the Pumats were occupied with other patrons. As weird as it was to see other business, he was glad they were able to have other interested parties. Molly had his cloak flipped in an attempt to draw less attention, though due to his nature of being it was a bit difficult. At least the patrons weren’t crownsguard?

One of them seemed to notice the entering party and turned to acknowledge them. “Oh, that’s real nice to see you. Just relax there a bit. If you need help immediately, we can see if Prime’s available,” he offered, and the newcomer simply waved him off, yet at the same time one of the others spoke.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, this is one of our compatriots.” Fjord gestured to the tall woman. “This is Yasha. New to your establishment.”

Even despite the business, the Pumat still tried to be kind. “Yasha. That’s a wonderful name. I can’t help you because I’m helping this person, but just hang tight a second.” He turned his head towards the back. “Pumat?” Not even a beat later he looked back at the group. “He’ll be right with you.

Yasha seemed greatly puzzled. This was becoming the smaller tiefling’s new favorite thing, seeing people who didn’t know interact with the Pumats for the first time. “Isn’t… he Pumat?” She asked softly before spying one of the other ones. “Oh, you guys are twins?” He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Something like that,” the same Pumat spoke. “He’ll be right with you.”

A few of the others muttered quietly to their confused friend, who tried her best to stay calm amidst the fact nothing made sense. Meanwhile, the red tiefling rocked on his heels uncomfortably, feeling guilty at the idea of pulling Prime away from his work. Molly seemed to notice this and clapped a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I’m sure he won’t mind our company.”

 _I hope so._ From the back room, a metallic collision sound erupted, followed by a few almost swears and the vision of Prime with his goggles and apron on.

“Hello!” They all heard. He glanced around, remembering what he was here for. “Hey, so I’m helping someone. Who needs help?” He was much more straight-to-the-point, which didn’t help the newcomer’s anxiety.

Fjord piped up, motioning to their pale friend. “Oh, actually, this is our friend Yasha. She’s new to your establishment.” The woman greeted the firbolg, who seemed to be processing the situation.

“Right. Now, you’ve been here before. You’re working with the others with Rae.” A small smile drew across the mentioned man’s face. _So Prime did like him too._ “Alright. Morning, morning to you. Hey, can I help you?” He looked to her, who seemed absolutely baffled by the situation.

The now-smiling man’s grin fell as she began to ask for the weapons their friend asked them to acquire, anxiety kicking back in and looking just past Molly as if needing help. He spied this, wrapping his arm around the friend and taking him away to look at something else while this happened. After a few moments passed and more serious issues were allowed to be brought up, it was the lavender man who spoke.

“We’re probably going to be dealing with some restless spirits, actually, so if there’s anything to deal with some of these phantasmagorical creatures, will-o’-wisps, that sort of thing,” he suggested, arm still around his smaller companion.

“Ah, interesting,” Prime spoke, leaning back and thinking. “You’re going to be dealing with some of the spiritual realm, you say?”

“Yeah, inevitably.”

The man rubbed his chin, an idea in mind. “Alright. Let’s see. Pretty sure I got maybe a vial or two of holy water if that’s what you’re looking for. That’s not really my purview, but we keep a couple in stock just in case.” The purple man seemed content with that. “Let me see what I can muster.” From there, he began to rummage though the back for some items, wherein noises could most certainly be heard.

The taller of the tieflings glanced down at his friend, still not removing his arm from it’s place. “Are you alright now, my friend?” Having suddenly been addressed and realizing the situation they were in, the red man’s skin grew more vibrant around the cheeks as he nodded, unable to find the right words.

“Oh. Uh- yeah, I… um…” Seeing how he was making a fool of himself, he instead opted to bite his lip and look at the floor. Somehow, and luckily so, the other man took this as a sign not to move away, instead glancing back towards the shopkeeper. The half-orc and the large woman discussed healing potions for a moment before the surlier of the Pumats returned.

“Alright, I’ve got two vials of holy water remaining. Those will run you about twenty-five gold apiece if you want them.” Molly seemed pleased with that, using his free hand to reach for his coin pouch.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was looking for was two vials of holy water.” It was then the arm from around Raelan left, if only for a brief few moments to count the coinage and accept the vials.

“Well look at that. It’s like it was meant to be. Straight up destiny.” The moment the exchange was finished, and the bottles of water were tucked away, the arm returned to his shoulder, which caused his cheeks to turn vibrant once more. He could hear his familiar’s voice in his head, even if she weren’t here to actually speak.

_Definitely no crush, none at all._

It was then the topic of healing potions was brought up, causing the smaller man to once again rock on his heels a little bit. The red eyed man briefly glanced down to see what the matter was before finding the tome in his compatriot’s hands, waiting his turn rather impatiently. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We’ll make sure you get what you need.”

 _Gods_ , he hated how every time Molly spoke to him since last night, his mind created the image of his friend punctuating the sentence with a ‘darling.’ It was driving him insane, his logics and feelings having a war inside his body wherein neither side was winning.

He was pulled back to the present moment when he heard Fjord bring up the cloak of protection again, for what reason he didn’t quite understand before he recalled the gamble from the night before. _Oh._ He probably had enough by now. It made the smaller man feel pathetic by comparison, with his measly twelve gold in his pockets.

It was interesting to see Prime’s expression go from a snappy _I’m busy_ to a pleased, impressed smile that likely only followed big spenders. He’d personally never seen it, but it was certainly an experience.

Some more shenanigans happened, and once again, he returned to his impatient rocking and uncomfortable drumming on his tome. There were just _too many feelings_ going on in his chest, and while a good many were good, the bad seemed to cloud the batch nonetheless, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the _barump-barump_ of his fingers on the leather journal.

Once that bout ended, he leaned forward with potential excitement at being able to put in his request, but Caleb got to it first with a ‘simple request.’ Anger welled in his chest despite his wanting, so he puffed his cheeks a bit more and more feverishly returned to his stimming.

A voice surprised him. “Rae.” It was Molly’s. He abruptly stopped what he was doing, holding his breath to gaze at his taller friend. “What did you need?” He was a bit confused, but answered.

“Ten gold worth of charcoal and incense.”

“Alright.” With that, he felt something on his forehead before his lavender friend wandered off, leaving him standing by himself. He didn’t realize how warm his friend’s touch was. He heard some further discussion before looking up again at the sound of Molly’s voice. “Here you are.” _Darling._ Every time.

In the man’s hands was a bowl, much like the ones Pumat gave him with the components for his spell. He blinked, confused, before realizing what had happened. His mouth opened, yet no words came out for a few moments. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he responded with a wink before returning to the others.

Oh boy, he couldn’t wait to get started on his ritual so he didn’t have to _think._


	5. Down the River We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nein return to the Evening Nip, prepared to begin their task for the Gentleman.

Raelan was thankful the others allowed him the time to complete his ritual, even though their waiting an hour seemed a bit awkward. It brought him some semblance of comfort, knowing he was better prepared for the road ahead, in both an emotional and literal sense. Mollymauk seemed impatient, having been gone for about that length of time due to an issue on the way back to the Tap, but all was smoothed over when he was allowed to carry the tortoiseshell owl that was Amethyst.

The precautions to ensure the group had little idea the true location of the tunnels were… uncomfortable at best, but Molly did what he could to ensure his comfort, squeezing his new friend’s hand tightly. Jester was holding his other hand and he was thankful they were all blindfolded so she couldn’t add to his embarrassment regarding his lavender friend.

He could tell the moment they went underground due to the temperature change alone. He didn’t deal with cold well, hence why he had put on an extra layer beneath his leather armor prior to such, but it still didn’t feel enough. There were some animalistic noises that made him uneasy, around which he returned Molly’s tight grip. He mourned his lack of sight, if only for the reason he couldn’t communicate with his friend silently.

Both their grips loosened with time and temperature, yet it was still the primary sensation he was focused on throughout the journey. He wished in part that he attempted to be clever, using the chance to summon his familiar and see what was going on, but he didn’t want to risk her or anyone else’s safety in the moment.

Eventually, the sound of their boots changed to a softer one more reminiscent of wood. It was significantly damper in the area, which seemed to confuse him. His hand tightened in concern around Molly’s when the blindfolds were thrown off of them, the small amount of light hitting everyone’s eyes differently, all in a way that resulting in frantic blinking for a few moments.

“Sorry about that,” Kara spoke- the elvish blooded person that the group had apparently encountered previously. “But you were respectful. Thank you.” She continued to collect the blindfolds as all looked around, noticing the things that had happened while they were without sight. Jester spied the two other tieflings’ hands, winking with a cheeky grin at the smaller of the two; meanwhile, said man looked behind him and saw the horrifying gnome still clinging to Caleb’s hand with an eerie chuckle. A chill went down his spine but he shook his head, trying not to think of it much further. “Two of these ships are yours to use,” the elf-blooded girl piped up again, drawing all’s attention. “You’re heading up that path there-“ she pointed a direction. “-about a mile or so. It’s with the river, thankfully, so the stream will be carrying you through. A set of paddles to each of you. Whoever wants to helm that; that’s up to you. Pay attention: from what I’ve been told, you’ll se the change in the texture of the wall on the left-hand side traveling northward. Look for the small collapse on that end.”

That felt like a lot of instructions, yet all the smaller man could think was that the Gentleman seriously thought eight people could squeeze into two of those boats. Perhaps they could, but it would be nowhere near comfortably, and would’ve made more sense to simply spare another boat.

She continued. “Be spry. Sometimes some creatures do find their way living down here, so be ready to move past quickly or find a way to duck them if you can.” A nod from Raelan as he snapped his fingers, bringing forth his owl familiar.

“We can take it from here,” Fjord responded, almost as if on cue.

“Alright. Good luck,” she said, glancing to the lot of them.

“You’ll be able to find your way back, right?” The half-orc joked after a few moments, drawing a playful smile on her face.

“We’ll be fine.” It was that moment the figure at the edge of the docks that the red tiefling hadn’t noticed sat up. Kara looked towards him. “The back two for these folks. Let them go; Gentleman’s orders.”

The man said nothing, continuing to rise and untie the boats, handing one rope to Fjord and the other to Beau. With that, he returned to his station, slinking back into his chair. Everyone made uncertain eye contact.

“Two boats,” Fjord repeated, glancing around. “Jester’s in mine. Yasha, you should go in the second boat. We’re going to need muscle in case we need to move fast.” Both women nodded, an intrigued smirk dawning the newcomer’s face. Nott saw the confusion and piped up.

“Jester and Yasha are like, the strongest people _ever_. Not just for women, but _ever._ ” Both of the aforementioned characters beamed, proud with their titles. He simply nodded, eyeing the muscles on both of them.

During this discussion, Caleb climbed into the boat with Yasha, urging Nott to follow. Raelan did the mental math, realizing that unless Beau rode with them, he’d likely be the one to ride alongside if for no reason other than the fact they shared a physical weapon. Still, it wasn’t his call to make, he decided, having multiple thoughts bouncing in his head that would’ve made him unable to decide had he the opportunity.

Seeing the rest of them wordlessly climb into the boat with Jester, a nervous noise left Raelan’s lips. Molly glanced back at him, noticing this before holding out his arm. It took a moment, but it soon became clear he was offering to take Amethyst with him for ease of mind. The warlock smiled, silently commanding her to stay with her purple friend, and they took to their individual boats.

He had never been in a boat before. It was a humbling ordeal, especially with Nott’s seeming phobia. He felt entirely helpless, just riding along with whatever the river and Yasha decided. Caleb sent _dancing lights_ throughout the cavern to light it up for the pair of them that couldn’t see in the impending darkness.

The boats were silent until Molly began speaking softly to Beau. It brought him some sort of comfort for the first while, at least until Nott heard her name and began shouting. “What do I do with it?”

“You throw it!” Cried Beau from across the way.

“Have you ever thrown anything in your life?” Molly teased Nott. There was a slight pause as Nott shuffled in her belongings for something to toss and the red tiefling took the opportunity to tell his familiar to fly between the boats and scout for danger. He didn’t like the shouting, fearful it would disturb something. A moment later he heard a sploosh noise from across the river, likely whatever Nott attempted to hit Molly with. “Good enough! I’ll give it to you later!” He called back.

 _“Your new companions are bizarre,”_ Amethyst remarked, amused.

_“Oh hush.”_

At some point, Jester called into the darkness, solely for the purpose of testing the echo. It was cute at first, but nonetheless put the nervous man on edge. It didn’t help that the further they went, the colder it got, until eventually Raelan was curled into a ball, arms folded across from himself. Being behind him, Caleb saw this, clearing his throat to get the man’s attention. “Come,” he simply said, turning himself a bit to allow their bodies to be closer. The gesture was certainly appreciated, even if it didn’t quite help with the temperature issue.

Soon enough, the river split in two, nobody seeming to have any idea on which route to take. The women in control of the boats did their best to stall, but it still came up quickly. A discussion quickly ensued, and despite his comment of “left, they said on the left wall”, inevitably it was up to Yasha. She thankfully seemed to listen, following that path.

There were some rocks that began to peek above the water’s surface, of which everyone thankfully avoided. A discussion began about what would happen if they fell in, but Nott seemed insistent she wouldn’t get in. Fjord and Beau were talking about if she had practiced any of the swimming techniques the pair taught her, which was an interesting thing to learn this late into the journey, but whatever. She pointed out that she had a _ring of water walking_ , thus she didn’t need to swim or even be in the water.

“You could literally be walking alongside the boat,” Molly pointed out with a chuckle. It seemed at that point the goblin had an epiphany, and the two men of her boat let out an amused noise. She crawled over the edge of the water, slowly reaching her foot in and waiting for the moment it was no longer a drowning liquid to her. After a few moments, she managed to balance herself, still holding onto the boat. Everyone cheered with amusement and Raelan smiled to himself; this really felt like a group of friends in this moment, as opposed to a mistrusting bunch of adventurers.

An instant later, her knee scraped a rock, quickly ending her attempt at water skiing. Fear struck everyone for a brief moment, Caleb pulling away and reaching to help his now waterlogged friend onto the boat. She was fine, thankfully, but was trembling from the experience. Her mouth opened to say a _thank you_ when the lights around the boats vanished.

A different kind of fear struck everyone in that moment, quickly glancing around for the source. The familiar voice of his former feline filled his ears: _“Stalactites!”_ His eyes darted over, widening with realization as one of the stone structures on the ceiling began to _shift_ and detach. It floated down, opening like an umbrella before landing and collapsing overtop their goblin friend between the two book-bound spellcasters.

“Nott!” He cried out, terrified as his eyes attempted to discern the danger amidst the dim greyscale of the room- a gift he was only allotted due to his infernal heritage. It seemed like a black and grey spined octopus-esque creature, the shape and texture nearly indistinguishable from an ordinary stalactite. Had it not been for the deep red eyes sunken at the top of the base, as well as the movement of it all, he would’ve had no idea it was even a threat.

Fjord was the first to move in response to the danger, moving his offhand and lips before aiming a blast of arcane energy towards the monster. _Eldritch blast_. There was something the two had in common, then. It thankfully struck, missing any allies before colliding with the stone-like exterior of the beast. With a nervous breath, he followed it by pointing a finger at it, his eyes glowing an oceanic green for a split second- something he wouldn’t have noticed were he not watching it happen.

The monster responded, eyes flashing red as it slowly crushed Nott inside of itself. A familiar orb of darkness emanated from it, blinding the tiefling before he realized he was once again in the perimeter of the _darkness_ spell, effectively unable to see and uncertain where the edge was. A panic filled him as he did his best to breathe, studying the noises around him for any sign of what was happening.

A loud noise came from the ally who attacked, quickly being muffled. Amethyst confirmed for him his suspicion: _“There’s another one on Fjord!”_

Suddenly, something grabbed his arm, letting out a surprised noise. It was Nott. _Did she get out?_ “What’s going on? Why can’t I see?” A worried noise left Raelan, overwhelmed and unable to yet respond.

A confused noise again from across the boat- or rather, perhaps it was a concerned one? “Sorry Fjord!” Beau cried before the sound of a crack of wood hitting something. “Did that hurt you?”

“No!”

“Okay!” Another sound of impact, though not with the echo of wood; and another.

The sound of cutting flesh; a worried feeling throbbed in the tiefling’s chest. “Welcome!” It was Molly’s voice, thus relief flooded his body. He was not only safe, but the one to _make_ the noise. All seemed well on that boat.

It was that moment realization struck Raelan; he was right next to a threat. He needed to respond, to protect Nott and his new friends. With the hand not in contact with the goblin, he pulled out his quarterstaff, taking a step forward and pushing her back. Muttering underneath his breath the incantation for the _shillelagh_ spell, imagining the light glow of arcane magic that was suppressed by the higher-level magic surrounding them.

Content to now be between his wounded ally and the beast, his blind eyes darted around, hoping for any indication as to where the beast was. “Where are you…?” He muttered under his breath before recognizing a slight hiss from the creature. With a flurry, he swung the weapon across his body, expecting a collision but finding none. _Fuck._ He missed.

His muscles tense, he took in a breath, quarterstaff still in hand, waiting for the moment it contacted him so he could respond in kind, another incantation in mind.

Suddenly, a burning sound crackled nearby, as well as a pained wail from the creature. Light flooded the tiefling’s eyes, and with an overwhelmed few blinks, he realized it couldn’t hold concentration on the spell. His eyes darted around and he saw his wizard companion, gloved hand outstretched in the direction of the beast, a light fading from the fingertips. Caleb had done that. Relief struck him like a wave, glad to no longer wonder where it was.

Fjord, apparently freed from the creature, muttered the now-familiar words of the _Armor of Agathys_ spell, moisture from the surrounding area crystalizing and clinging to his skin and clothes.

In time to Amethyst’s alarm, a third of the creatures fell from the ceiling, colliding with the wizard who saved them. It enveloped him, the red-haired man disappearing beneath the skin of the creature. “No!” Nott cried from behind the tiefling. Fear struck him as he saw the one closest to him, now singed from his ally, draw closer, attempting to do the same to him.

He tried to fight it off, unable to as the strength of the beast overwhelmed him, darkness once again overwhelming him. A pain gripped him as he felt the jaws of the creature crush him, eyes widening in realization in spite the horror. The brief words he’d internally recited escaped him, allowing flames to envelop his body- as well as the creature’s- in response. The horror let out a disgusting, pained noise, falling limp around him upon completion, taking him to the ground from the sheer weight. Thankfully, he was able to release himself, although covered in a light layer of mucus, standing back to his feet.

While he was relieved to be free, he knew without an hour rest he only had one more of those left in him, immediately regretting not trusting his allies to save him. At least Nott was safe, now, he reasoned, eyes darting around the room once more.

It was the goblin’s turn to respond, raising her crossbow and aiming past the breathing tiefling in hopes to save her other companion from the beast encompassing him. It struck just wide of Caleb’s chest, sinking into the feathers. A second bolt collided with one of its’ eyes, a _louder_ noise leaving its jaws. It, like the one around Raelan, collapsed, all the weight now falling to the wizard, who then fell to the ground.

A few more moments passed, a myriad of eyes glancing both between one another and the tortoiseshell owl hovering above, simply breathing with exertion in hopes there were no more threats. Silence hung in the air, save for the sound of running water. A large rock figure seemed to break from the wall of the cavern, covered in green algae, approaching the boats. Everyone began to scream in horror. Molly pulled back to the opposite side of the boat from one of those creatures, eyes wide.

Jester took this opportunity to clutch the oars once more, muscles bulging as she quickly pushed her boat away from the entity. “Eat shit, rock face!” She shouted at it. Yasha followed suit, thankfully allowing the boat to pull away. Raelan reached his hand out towards his smaller goblin friend, hand on her shoulder as he sent his consciousness towards his familiar, eyes glazing over to a blind grey with icy-purple irises.

From Amethyst’s perspective, he was able to see both the creatures and the boats. She was lingering in the air, amidst the stalactites that were now confirmed to be _just_ structures, keeping an overview of the situation and preparing to take action where necessary. _“Should I do anything?”_ Her voice rang in his head.

_“No. Just watch.”_

Caleb brought the _dancing lights_ back to the front and backs of the boats before scrambling into the tiefling and goblin. The former felt himself get moved slightly, nervously clinging towards whatever he could. Having seen this from his familiar’s perspective was an interesting debacle, certainly, but still decided it was worth the bizarre combination of senses. The boats drifted further away, quicker than the stone creatures can keep up, the owl following suit from the air. She and her master watched as the beasts soon gave up, turning and slowly returning to their original positions.

A sigh of relief left the tiefling as he blinked, vision returning to his body as his irises returned to his natural deep blue. He’d never gotten used to the shift, though he’d never done it _while in motion._ Nott and Caleb beside him shared a similar look of relief, though the goblin held an additional look of confusion as she stared at his face.

“How was the view?” The wizard remarked, a cheeky grin on his face as he asked.

“Disorienting,” came the response.

Eventually the silence settled in again, calm as it were before the intensity of the battle. The three huddled at the front of the boat relaxed, easing back into order, this time with Caleb in front of the tiefling, as he and his friend were examining one another’s injuries. Nott was between the two men, seeming a bit conflicted as her eyes flickered to the tiefling as well.

Soon, Caleb’s eyes stared out in front in vigil, Nott taking the opportunity to turn back towards her newer companion. “I… um…” He lifted his head, curious; he didn’t think he and the goblin ever had a conversation to themselves in the two days they’d known one another. “Thank you. For trying to protect me,” she spoke, clearly not used to showing that kind of intimacy.

“It’s nothing.” He tried to make it easier for her, but he was still processing what had happened. “I… You were in trouble. I didn’t want you to get hurt any more than you were,” he admitted, and she nodded in response.

“Still. Thank you.” Silence fell over them for another few moments.

“Halt. Wait. Stop,” Caleb suddenly called out, albeit way too quietly.

“HE SAYS TO STOP!” Nott shrieked, much louder than him and successfully drawing the attention of the two rowers. The sudden noise caused Raelan’s ears to ring, wincing as he glanced around to spot whatever it was his friend saw. It took a moment, but the difference in texture soon became obvious.

They had arrived at their destination.

With a nervous breath, the red tiefling straightened his back. He desperately hoped his wasted magic wouldn’t hurt them later.


	6. Behind the Rockslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having arrived at the specified location, the Nein begin to delve into these strange ruins.

The Nein stood at the edge of the riverbank, watching and discussing with one another while the two strongest companions heaved rock after rock, slowly revealing the area beyond the cave-in. The tiefling men happened to linger next to each other, the taller of the two glancing down at his friend. “You alright?” He piped up after a few moments.

A nod from the warlock, gently rubbing his sore bicep as he glanced up at the lavender man. “Yeah. A little bruised, but other than that,” he responded softly, relieved he’d made it out with only a few oddly-placed bruises. “What about you? I barely got to see you that fight.” The man smirked, hands on his blade grips at his side.

“Not a scratch.” More nods. “T’was brave what you did; take the hit for Nott.” A rolling of eyes. “I’m serious. You’re a force to be reckoned with,” he teased, leaning in and nudging his smaller friend with his shoulder. An awkward smile crept across the red man’s lips as he shrugged.

“I suppose. It didn’t feel like much,” he admitted, arms folded across his chest. A few more moments passed before Caleb piped up, pointing out a faint purple glow from beyond the rock pile. This drew his interest, standing on his toes to try and see beyond the wall of rubble, although he didn’t catch anything.

 _“Do you want me to scout ahead?”_ The gentle voice of his companion spoke as she hopped forward, purple irises gazing up at him. He shook his head.

 _“No. We can wait, I’d rather not risk poofing you,”_ he admitted, to which his feathered friend tilted her head in admiration.

 _“That’s kind of you. I’ll choose to pretend it’s not because you don’t have the funds to bring me back,”_ she teased, to which he rolled his eyes.

 _“You know I_ do _care for you beyond your use, right?”_ She let out a trilled noise, showing her affection and playfulness. Yasha reached for the rock she was standing on, resulting in the tortoiseshell flapping her wings to hover in the air.

It was around that time the women finished clearing the way, all glancing into the chamber. A spiral staircase twisted before them, a worn iron cage built into the wall lingering above, a small crystal inside that seemed to glow purple. _That must be what we saw,_ Raelan concluded.

“Ooh!” Jester sang, glancing between the crystal and her red-haired friend. “Hey Caleb, look! Don’t you want to steal that? It’s probably magic.”

The mentioned man didn’t seem phased, despite his response of agreement. “It’s possible that I will want to steal it,” he spoke monotonously, eyes focused instead further in the chamber. Nobody dared speak beyond that- at least, until Fjord piped up.

“Well, let’s get in there.” Even still, there was some hesitation, almost as if he’d spoken to convince _himself_ as well. There was a general feeling of uneasy interest from every member of the Nein, everyone watching the others in hopes they would act first.

“Let’s continue on,” Caleb ultimately decided, taking steps forward to enter the chamber beyond the rubble. There was a bit of discussion as to the direction to go, everyone seeming to either not know or have an arbitrary reason.

“Let’s go down,” the blue tiefling interrupted with a playful hop. “Usually scarier things are down.”

“I’m always a fan of going down,” Beau agreed in a way that _everyone_ knew it was a sexual joke. Raelan had to bite back a chuckle.

“More expensive things tend to be up, but I’m happy to start with down,” Molly piped up, choosing instead to blatantly ignore his adversary’s comment as everyone chastised her for it. Fjord decided to use this opportunity to start walking, heading the agreed direction. Raelan, not wanting to be left behind, hurried to follow.

Everyone seamlessly fell into an order upon this; Nott in front, Yasha and Jester following, Fjord next, Mollymauk and Raelan behind them, with Beau and Caleb taking up the rear. Amethyst was lingering on Yasha’s shoulder, the woman having previously agreed that her shoulder was an acceptable perch due to her constitution and tougher skin.

It was interesting, noticing how everyone just seemed to _agree_ on where to go. He could even list why everyone was where, a thought that surprised him. Thoughts and excuses flooded his head, yet no real answers. Nobody spoke until they reached the bottom of the stairwell, everyone looking around to see what was ahead.

“Are we free of traps?” Jester whispered- though not actually quietly.

“There are no traps here.” Nott seemed to have no sense of hushed conversation either. “Should we continue on straight ahead?”

“Should we send Frumpkin or Amethyst down there and see if it’s clear?” The blue tiefling inquired, glancing back at the two familiars.

“Frumpkin cannot see in the dark,” Caleb responded, and the red tiefling raised his hand as he spoke.

“Amethyst can,” he volunteered before glancing back at the other wizard, not wanting to steal his thunder. “If you and Frumpkin are alright with it, she could carry him and they could look?” The orange tabby around the man’s neck seemed at first uncertain, but was soon lifted and offered towards the man.

With a whistle, the tortoiseshell owl approached, lifting the cat gently in her talons before gliding ahead into the room. Almost simultaneously, the wizard and the warlock placed their hands upon the nearest ally’s shoulder- Raelan on Molly’s and Caleb on Beau’s- their eyes glazing over as their senses shifted.

The pair flew down the long, twenty-five foot, very thin hallway to the opposite side, having not yet encountered any danger. In the next chamber was an interesting feature: a raised platform, about a foot high and triangular in shape. An interesting thing of note, the icy-eyed pair decided, ready to continue ahead when from the previous room they heard a pained scream.

Alarmed, Raelan pulled back into himself, glancing around to see if they were in danger. Just outside the doorframe stood Nott, having triggered a pressure plate and thus now had a metal bolt embedded an inch or so into her thigh. “I found a trap!” She shrieked, the red man letting out a sigh. He thought the whole point of them flying a head was to ensure there _weren’t_ traps, but it seems that intent was not communicated to the group.

“Is it spent now?” Caleb asked, drawing Raelan’s gaze. His eyes were still misty; he was likely hearing the commotion via Frumpkin across the hallway.

“Let me check!” She then cried back before stepping backward and investigating the plate. He decided his attention better focused here, trusting Amethyst to assist the wizard and his familiar in searching the room. He lifted his head, calling forward.

“Do I need to prepare a _spare the dying_?” He half-teased, half-inquired. She ignored him, Molly letting out a laugh.

For some reason, she then stepped forward, onto a separate pressure plate that fired another bolt, this time she managed to dodge. “Oh god, there’s lots of traps! I’m dying out here!” She shrieked dramatically, resulting in a few small chuckles. She seemed to listen to one of the holes in particular before rummaging through her things to perhaps find something to plug and break it. A brass doorknob went into the hole, which then broke along with the trap. Though, when she removed the knob another bolt came out, although with significantly less speed. A breaking sound erupted as that happened, apparently signifying that at least that section was safe.

“Are there any more?” Jester called out, albeit dramatically.

“I don’t know!” Came the reply, followed by her searching for more.

Having now decided his efforts were better put towards seeing what Amethyst did, his hand returned to the purple man’s shoulder and eyes grew purple. _“Glad you’ve returned,”_ she purred, no longer holding the orange tabby. Instead, she was perched on a higher part of the wall, scanning the room as the cat wandered, investigating. The platform seemed to have a series of carved symbols on it, ones that she hadn’t recognized. In the center was a deep hole, though they hadn’t gone to investigate that aspect further.

Narrowing his eyes, the scholar asked her to return so he could possibly examine the carvings in an attempt to potentially decipher it. She responded in a huff, offering nothing further despite clearly being upset that he didn’t trust her expertise. As she fluttered onto the platform, her head turned, hearing loud footsteps approaching from the direction of the corridor. His eyebrows furrowed; he wasn’t moving, so what could it be?

Suddenly, torch in hand, Yasha emerged, two bolts embedded in her body. “Fuck!” She huffed, biting her lip from the pain. She turned back to look through the corridor from which she came. “Maybe nobody else do that!” A small chuckle left his lips; apparently, she just burst through, ignoring the traps.

Suddenly, Raelan felt the sensation of being lifted, a fear bursting in his chest. He _knew_ he let out a spooked noise, even without hearing it. Air brushed by his face quickly, the conflict of sensations making the man want to throw up. The overwhelming feeling pushed him from his familiar, eyes blinking in a flurry as he attempted to comprehend the situation.

By the time he adjusted, all he could hear was Molly’s heavy breathing and the monk’s hurried footsteps. He saw the purple man holding him in his arms, back pressed against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath. “What…?” was all he could manage. The man set him down gently, though he almost fell backward onto the resetting pressure plate, thankfully not doing so as lavender hands pulled him closer. His sense of balance was momentarily _fucked._

“I wanted to get across before it reset,” he began to explain before his eyes landed on something behind the smaller man. Following the gaze, he realized Beau was now racing across, attempting to dodge the bolts that fired out. She managed to avoid the first bolt, but the one just before the ending striking her an inch in her chest despite her efforts to catch it.

A pained noise left her, though she seemed to try to save face. “I caught it!” She blatantly lied, pain deepening her voice. The bolt clattered to the ground, delayed, and the woman made it to the end.

Nott began to apologize to the group, though Molly used this opportunity to continue his discussion with the man. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been disorienting,” he apologized, hands still on either side of his friend’s shoulders to keep him balanced.

“Its… it’s fine, I’m fine.” A suspicious look as his friend raised his brow, taking his hands from his friend for just an instant and watching him wobble like a drunk man. “See?” He chuckled, resulting in an eyeroll from the ostentatious man.

That seemed to be when an owl fluttered into the group, resting on one of Molly’s horns. A panicked look seemed to be on her face, or as much as can be discerned. _“Are you alright, master? You were suddenly pulled from me.”_

He nodded, still blinking in an attempt to get his bearings. _“I’m fine. Disoriented, but fine. Thank you.”_

The discussion with Nott seemed to ease, everyone taking a moment to calm as the adrenaline slowly drained from their systems. The chamber they were in was a tall, octagonal chamber with a domed ceiling, abstract designs and symbols written in each section of the chamber. Where each of the triangular slices met at the top of the dome, there was a ten-foot-wide pillar of blue that extended from the ceiling. The mechanism of which it was held aloft was intriguing, but not the first order of business, he decided.

“That thing’s going to try to kill us,” Jester decided.

Below that was what the familiars had discovered before, the triangular piece of stone. The most peculiar thing was that there seemed to be no exit. They likely had to solve the puzzle to find such exit.

Still a bit off-balance, Raelan grasped his purple friend’s collar, pulling it as a way to ask to be lead forward. He seemed to listen, arm wrapped around his wobbly friend as he walked, eyes darting from all the symbols in the room. His brow furrowed, trying his best to understand _what the fuck_ this was. He _had_ to know what these were, he was smart enough, right?

It seemed half the group was intent on solving the mystery of the symbols: Caleb, Beau, Fjord, and himself. Nott was around the room, searching for traps. The first seemed to divert off, finding a corner to begin ritual casting another spell. The other three, on the other hand, began talking and attempting to figure it out.

It was Beau who first pointed out there was a similarity in all the symbols above, from there sparking a few other epiphanies. Fjord didn’t have a complete comprehension, due to his less astute background, though surprisingly Beau held an understanding rivaling his own despite not having magic of her own. The symbols, while not classically used, were specific interpretations of each of the schools of magic. He could even recall when Ioun had enforced he learn these versions, despite his protest. _Did she know?_

Once Fjord pointed out that epiphany- though not knowing the intricate details- the tiefling and the dark-skinned woman began individually pointing out which symbol meant what by recreating them and the pattern of the room in their respective journals. It brought a bit of perspective to the newcomer; this woman who seemed to hate everyone, himself included, was also a studied person, and perhaps even a bit of a geek? It was… somewhat adorable, though he wouldn’t dare say that aloud.

After having articulated this amongst one another, they realized they needed to present it to the group. Being the talker of the trio, Fjord piped up first. “So, I don’t know why I know this,” he began.

“It’s like magic people code,” Beau simplified. “The monks- the people I learned from were _super_ into this shit.”

Jester’s eyes grew wide. “Does that mean we have to cast some spells or something?” This caused the red tiefling to pull feathered end of his quill away from his lips, seeming to appreciate this epiphany.

“Actually, maybe. It’s just a matter of _what_ ,” he said, glancing at the two beside him.

“I think it’s a puzzle,” she stated flatly. “I feel like this thing rotates and we have to match the symbols on the bottom to the symbols that match the school of magic,” she continued. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back to the platform, not quite seeing how the platform would rotate. _Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s certainly a puzzle._ “It feels like the divination is a like a full symbol of the star.” She and the half-orc then began muttering to themselves, trying to figure that out.

Dissatisfied with that solution, Raelan began pacing, wandering around the room with the feathered end of his quill brushing across his lips, representative diagram in hand. Despite the discussion in the background, it felt like he was in a world of his own, just the soft texture against his lips, the _tap-tap_ of his boots on stone, and the picture in his head.

There were some similarities in the pattern on the ground and the ones on the ceiling, turning would align somewhat similar. If there wasn’t chance of turning the _floor_ like he thought, maybe there were other means to connect the dots. Assuming the room was static, there _had_ to be a different way.

A hand on his shoulder distracted him from his thoughts; he jumped, turning to look at the person. “Woah, sorry!” It was Yasha, surprisingly, who raised her hands in surrender. “I just, you were thinking really hard, and-and the others are thinking of investigating the rest of this tower.” He blinked, looking around at how the people in the room had shifted since he began thinking. Nott had vanished, apparently back into the corridor to disarm the traps.

“Y… yeah, thanks.” Raelan’s brain didn’t like giving up. He didn’t like leaving, even if to look if there were more pieces. It felt like defeat, but he understood it was likely necessary. There was no reason to waste time if they didn’t have to.

Suddenly, a _loud_ shocked noise erupted from the hallway, followed shortly thereafter by an “It’s clear!” from the goblin. Now that it was safe, everyone began heading out, Molly in the lead.

“Oh, well done with-“ His eyes widened as they landed on the goblin’s destroyed right hand. A bolt had clearly hit it while she was trying to plug it, going into her thumb and palm. “Oh my god, you hand!”

Despite clutching it in a way that indicated pain, she shook her head. “It’s fine, it’s nothing. It’s fine, it’s just a little blood.” Everyone could just look at her and see the lie. Even _Molly_ had to look away, disgusted.

“You want to deal with that right away,” Caleb spoke, ripping the bolt from her hand in an absolutely _horrid_ way. Blood began spurting, but Beau beside him didn’t seem concerned, instead tapping his shoulder and pointing at the bloody bolt.

“Hey, can I keep that?” _What the fuck._ “I think I can throw it later.” For some reason, the wizard agreed, visibly pleasing the monk. “Thanks, Nott.” Molly missed the beginning of the exchange, but saw the transfer of _something._

“Did you just pocket a thumb?” The purple tiefling piped up, confused and amused. Raelan shuddered, glancing behind him and whistling for his familiar to return. She gazed at him with her beautiful eyes, doing her best to hold herself up without digging her talons in a way that would hurt.

 _“I’m… glad you’re okay.”_ She simply said, her head turned a way as if she were embarrassed. This made the newcomer chuckle.

 _“I love you too.”_ She only _hmph_ ’d.

“Hey, Red,” Caleb called back, drawing his attention once more. “Are you alright for… uh… Ames and Frumpkin to stay about… thirty feet ahead of us as we move?” The man simply nodded, turning to his celestial friend. Without another word, she took off, leading the orange tabby from overhead. They waited a few moments, giving the familiars a head start upstairs before following behind.

It seemed nearly reversed, the order upstairs. Beau and Caleb were in front, Molly and Rae behind them, with Yasha in the back; those with familiars blind and deafened to their reality and clinging to their nearest ally. It was interesting to him, watching who volunteered to go next and who decided it was simply their turn. He’d never been in an adventuring group before, thus these things were new to him. It might just become one of those things he would grow to love.

Quite a many steps above, there revealed a grand chamber, with intricate design and beautiful interior; a marble floor in checkered-pattern squares. Against each wall were ornate and detailed carvings with half-pillars would’ve likely been, had they not been long gone. Half of the room had collapsed; what would likely have been nearly eighty feet across was cut down to forty, everything within reachable space seemingly looted.

Other than that, there were a couple of things. A relief in the center of the chamber, right before the wall collapse that was built into the marble, resembling two faces and one body. The sides of the chamber each had mirrored acorn-shaped alcoves. Above was a set of chains affixed to a red clay urn affixed to it.

It was a lot, and he was thankful Amethyst was as observant as she was. He returned to himself, glancing and hearing a discussion between Nott and the others about her injured thumb. Not wanting to lose any details, he pulled Molly’s sleeve, leaning up to tell him what the owl saw that could be of interest.

The conversation ended with Jester casting a gentle healing spell on the bloody mess, helping the tissue stitch together just enough to continue going. Fjord pushed past the front of the group, making his way inside the chamber and looking around. There were so many questions rattling around the red man’s head, yet he understood he was part of a group and couldn’t act brashly.

Everyone began to spill into the room and looked around for things of importance, meanwhile the red tiefling grasped the monk woman’s hands and pulled her towards the opposite end of the chamber, hoping for her help to solve the mystery.

The relief was significantly more eeire from above, as it was a very flat carving. She seemed to think so too, at least, until she stilled, eyes seeming to catch something in the rubble. His brow furrowed, confused until she slowly pointed out something metallic. He was certainly not brave enough to examine it, instead moving his eyes between the object and his companion.

Taking note of what was pointed out, Caleb brought the globules of light to the urn and attempted to further examine it. “Do you want me to throw something up at the vase and try to knock it over?” Jester suddenly spoke, looking to her red-haired friend.

“No, let’s see what’s over there first,” Fjord responded, gaze towards the tiefling and monk before following through. The wizard hurried behind, hoping to gleam any further insight before his spell wore off.

 _“Is the metallic thing magic?”_ The smaller tiefling man projected.

 _“Abjuration.”_ A simple response, yet one that came with many more questions than answers.

Amidst all this, Nott and Molly moved to examine the two alcoves. It took the goblin a bit, but she was finally able to look inside. “Another clay urn!” Interesting.

“A third!” Came Molly’s announcement.

Raelan’s brain burned with questions. He tried to take note of what he could but there was _so much happening._ His eyes were fixated on the pattern on the ground, curious and intrigued. It seemed to be a body dressed well in robes, one face appearing masculine while the other feminine. Same features, same hairstyle; almost as if it were two sides of the same coin. “Hey, Molly, it’s you!” He called out teasingly before his eyes lingered on the empty holes that were the figure’s eye sockets. It seemed to be only a quarter inch deep, not holes to the previous floor or anything of the sort.

“Theres a rod!” Jester exclaimed gleefully from the rubble. That could likely fit in the hole in the previous chamber, potentially confirming Beau’s theory. It wasn’t until she spoke again the newcomer even realized she moved. “Should we stick something in these eyes?”

“Maybe,” he replied, confused and uncertain. His mind was completely somewhere else when the woman piped up again.

“So~” she sang, leaning playfully into the taller tiefling. “Molly~” A wink and his cheeks flushed a vibrant red.

“Is _this_ really going to be our first one-on-one?” He muttered before the large woman across the room spoke.

“It’s just trash urns!” Yasha determined, unable to find anything in hers. The goblin she was nearby began to have a conversation, most of which he didn’t catch. He was startled from that observation by the sound of rubble and rocks falling- thankfully just Fjord freeing the rod. From there, Molly and Caleb began to go to separate urns, bound to investigate.

It was then Amethyst saw something emerge from the urn Yasha was examining. It seemed like a glowing orb of fire, moving to attack. “Look out!” He called out, bracing to run towards her. Nott, who had already been prepared for something, shot one of her bolts at it as the purple tiefling swiftly ran a blade across his arm to activate it. Thankfully, the bolt dissipated it before it did anything, everyone breathing a sigh of relief.

More appeared from the remaining, signaling to everyone it was time for battle. The initial one that Nott dissipated reformed by the urn, before the lot of them vanished. Everyone held their breath, waiting, before they reappeared: one against Molly, Nott, and Beau. The closest one to the newcomer was Beau. They all reached out, their touch creating a burst of electric, undead energy.

Molly’s muscles spasmed with electric damage, teeth gritting as the charge went through him. Nott nearly collapsed as it shook her body, her jaw locked in place as she let out a pained cry. It only lasted a moment, yet it still looked extremely painful.

With that, the wisps shifted, lingering by their targets but adjusting to gain more access. The one by Beau adjusted to be within reach of both her and Fjord; the one by Nott moved to reach out for Frumpkin; the one on Molly moved closer to the wall. An uneasy fear flooded the red tiefling: was he at all prepared for this?

At that moment, the monk and the goblin took action. Nott aimed her crossbow for the one by Molly, though the first bolt went wide and the second was evaded by the creature with insane speed. Her eyes widened with fear. “Help me!” She shrieked. “I’m gonna die; I’m gonna die!”

On the other side, the dark-skinned woman pulled out her holy water and attempted to smash it to explode the water over it. She failed to do so, it maneuvering out of the way quickly. Thus, she opted instead to punch it with her other fist, managing to collide although it didn’t seem to react very much.

Fjord sprung up, not even ten feet from the red tielfing, whispering something in a language he didn’t understand with a familiar blue-green glow to his eyes. He’d done it earlier to one of the creatures on the river and he was doing it now- not that the newcomer knew what _it_ was. Seeming satisfied with whatever he’d done, he then reached his blade- the one the group had spent a while debating over- and attempted to hit the swift glowing green orb.

Watching that happen with a fear and spying Nott across the room, he opted to race towards the door, managing to get just within a few feet of the one by the goblin. As he began to sprint, though, the wisp upon him attempted to reach out and deal damage upon him. A recognition crossed the monk’s eyes as it reached out and she made a similar attack against it, hoping to use the opportunity to attack.

A rush of electricity jolted through the half-orc’s body, visibly impairing his movement, but the icy coating across his skin form earlier erupted and cut into it- although not as much as one would have hoped. Thankfully, to make up for that, Beau’s fist impacted the creature on the opposite side, evening out the hits dealt.

Noting the danger her already wounded goblin friend was in, the blue tiefling beside him watched her utter a comforting incantation in her direction. Content with the results of that- something Raelan was unable to see- she turned a hand towards the wisp by the final tiefling, clutching her holy symbol around her waist as a whisper escaped her lips. Flame-like radiance left her hand, flying across the room and impacting the wall.

It was then Raelan realized that he was there and could do something. His eyes darted between the three will o’ wisps, debating which one to go for. It wasn’t until he heard Yasha’s angry roar as she charged the one by Nott that he was able to decide. _Two on the one by Beau, two on the one by Nott, Molly’s alone, help Molly._

“Get off my friend you flying _fuck_!” He shouted at it in infernal, taking out his quarterstaff as he finished the brief incantation for a familiar spell: _vicious mockery._ Even from partway across the room, he could see its form flicker. He took a step towards it- or rather, away from the nearer wisp.

 _“I think it’s offended, boss,”_ Amethyst teased from above.

His purple ally turned to show a smirking nod to his friend before moving around the wisp to the nearest clay pot. With his movement, he swung his blade unsuccessfully, before moving and breaking the pot. _Interesting._ The will o’ wisp on him disappeared as that happened, and everyone cheered at recognition.

Due to this, he glanced to the pot directly above him, curious and nervous about what would be necessary to do the same to that one. As he had this thought, the second one exploded into flame from the wizard’s glove, surprising him a bit. The wisp that dissipated this time was on Nott. A second one flew into the air, directed at the floating object above him.

Like fireworks in the sky, the clay urn exploded, ash clouding down onto him like a drizzle of dust. A third explosion erupted behind the wizard in a bout of dramatic flair, which the small tiefling man got to see right before the scorching fragment from the urn above hit him right over the head, sending him nearly unconscious to the floor.

“Oh shit!” Jester cried out.

…

It was hard to breathe for a good few moments.

The world quickly became a blur of _noise_ and darkness, jolts of _sensation_ traveling up his arms. He knew he had to be kneeling on the floor; he wasn’t standing, he knew that much.

 _God_ that hurt.

He was awake, he knew that, as his vision in returned in slow, sizzling movements. Blinking didn’t help quicken the process, and sound began to slowly make more sense as if he were returning from miles beneath the surface of the water.

“What the _fuck_ Caleb?” A man’s voice, an accent of weird vowels evident.

“I didn’t realize he was underneath it, I thought it would- you know- evaporate or land somewhere else!” Another man, a zemnian accent. _Caleb._

“Where the fuck _else_ would it go?” A low woman’s voice, words nearly a threat.

A pained noise erupted from his throat; his hands were touching a cool stone, marble? His muscles felt weak and it was hard to push himself up. He wasn’t holding up his weight, he knew that much. What was?

More of his sight returned. There were people around him. A hand was on his chest, keeping him from falling over further. “Jester, can you heal him?” The same first voice asked, much closer than before. Was it?

“I-I mean I _can_.” There was a reluctance. Why? Wasn’t he important?

“Don’t worry, I got this,” another woman’s voice, a softer one. Another hand touched him, this time on his back. He felt a warmth drift into his body, climbing up his neck like a comfortable blanket longing to hug him. The sensation was brief, but once it was gone it took some of the pain he felt on the back of his skull.

His vision came back to him all at once as he took a deep breath inward, finally pushing himself to sit upward. _Sit?_ When did he lie down? “He’s up!” A high-pitched, shrieking voice let out, sending a shooting pain in his head. He must’ve winced visibly, because the voice followed it up with a soft apology.

Pressing his eyes shut once more in hopes it would clear the fog, he breathed deeply. Once they opened, light assaulted his eyes for an instant before the image unblurred, and before him he recognized was his party. The hand on his chest was Molly’s, the shrieking voice from in front of him was Nott, Caleb and Beau were stood some feet away in an argument, Jester was at his other side. _Gods_. “What happened? How long was I out?” He asked, assuming the worst.

“Not long,” Jester said with a relieved sigh. “The bottom of the hanging urn hit your head pretty hard. I don’t think you’re too hurt, though.” He didn’t _feel_ too hurt, aside from the overwhelmed feeling of his entire sensory system exploding.

“Is Caleb okay?” Why that was the first thing he asked, he was only partly certain. At that, the two other tieflings turned to look at the wizard.

“He’s fine,” Molly comforted. “A bit guilty, perhaps, but untouched.” The man nodded, still a bit uneasy at the situation. “Come, let’s get you up.” With that, the tallest tiefling rose to his feet, offering a hand to the shorter man. With a couple more headache-filled blinks, he accepted also standing with a bit of difficulty.

“Sorry I’m a klutz,” the younger man mumbled, having to lean into his lavender friend for assistance. “I thought I’d have more time to get out of the way, I didn’t realize I’d be right under it when it broke.”

Instead of convincing him it wasn’t his fault or shifting blame, the other man simply wrapped his arm around his friend’s back, leading him forward. “No need to worry about it.” The way he was being urged wasn’t where he wanted to go, though, so he leaned the other direction, hoping to steer his friend. The man chuckled but seemed to understand as they approached the bickering pair.

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to have been more careful,” the woman scolded the slightly taller man, arms folded across her chest. The wizard didn’t seem to have a response, eyes instead fixated on the red man’s approach.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He sarcastically remarked, likely more directed towards anyone other than the now-injured man. Seeing the opportunity, the short man silently pulled away from Molly, instead wrapping his arms around the scolded man. He seemed surprised, every muscle tensing at the touch.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” Raelan simply said, pressing his cheek to the man’s shoulder. “It was probably scary for you and that’s okay. I’m alright, just a little achey.” He could tell his new friend couldn’t quite believe that. “Hey, we’re good. It’s not your fault. I’m fine.” With that, he pulled away, looking at his friend’s face. There was… an unreadable expression, but one that was distinctly different from the frustrated guilt from before, so he took it as a win.

Having resolved that issue, he glanced around, seeing if anything had been accomplished in his brief absence. The only difference he saw was Yasha holding a metal plate that seemed to be the size of the urn’s bottom, with symbols on it. His eyebrows furrowed as he wandered over there, Mollymauk a few steps behind him as if he were an escort. “It… seems to have the symbols from the other room,” she explained, looking it over.

Behind them, a sudden noise erupted, everyone turning to see the relief opening as Fjord vanished into the floor. “Fjord!” Nott shrieked as she raced over, trying to peer inside. She let go of a feather, tossing it into the air, releasing an incantation. Everyone hurried over, seeing a large hole into which the half-orc was gently descending.

“Hey, you solved the puzzle!” Beau called out like a jackass.

About thirty feet later, he touched a bottom covered in rotting clothing and ash and bone. A disgusted look came across his face as the texture and smell got to him. Yasha began to take out her rope, wrapping it around a pillar to descend.

On the other hand, Jester shouted down. “Fjord, do you see anything cool down there?”

“Yeah. There’s a bunch of old clothes. It smells awful down here.” The response was as figured, in all honesty.

“Do you want me to send Amethyst down with you?” Raelan asked, to which he received an answer in the negative.

“Does anybody have weapons or coins on them?” Of course, Jester didn’t even wait to wonder about that.

“There’s probably some nice stuff in there,” Molly muttered under his breath.

“I haven’t really looked. I still got this damn bronze rod with me, too, so I got to find my way out of here.” At that point, the large woman had finished tying her rope and was getting ready to descend with.

“We’ll get you out,” the blue tiefling replied, _adamant_. “Just look for something cool, though.”

“And also, pull the buttons off of the clothing!” Nott called.

“Fjord!” Yasha shouted, barely moments before dropping the torch. During that time, she took the opportunity to toss the rope too. The half-orc panicked, attempting to catch it and fumbling with it before it came to rest in his hands. Fjord decided then to begin searching through the rot for anything of interest as Caleb began to travel down the aforementioned rope.

“Caleb, can you hold yourself up on that rope or are you going to slide?” The blue tiefling teased her red-haired friend, a cheeky grin on her face.

“We’ll see,” was the response.

In the moments to follow, the sound of shifting and clattering of bone-like objects and clothing material seemed to echo up the narrow chamber. Raelan had to avoid looking down, the image of the ripping sensation itself wanting to make him throw up. He blatantly looked away, which resulted in a slight amused chuckle from his purple friend. “Too much for you?”

He shivered. “It’s not the gore that’s the issue,” he admitted, not wanting to seem weak-stomached. “It’s the… the idea of the sensation, you know? The tearing of all those clothes and-“ He had to cut himself off there, clenching his fists tightly. Not another word was spoken of the issue, the smaller man leaving without the idea he was being mocked.

“Let’s rest for a while, you guys,” Jester piped up, drawing attention her way. That seemed really nice, given all that had happened so far. The remaining members of the group began to pull away from the chute, gathering instead in the middle of the room to simply take a breather.

After getting comfortable in one of the corners by the door, the red tiefling pulled out his leather-bound tome, tugging on the second of two place-markers. _The Mistress will be interested to know what happened so far._


	7. A Puzzle, Completed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nein, having all the physical pieces to the mystery downstairs, begin to put their heads together. The newcomer grows upset.

Partway through the rest, Raelan’s clerical friend came up to ask what it was he was doing. She’d watched him for a while, scribbling away, and noticed that with each turn of the page, he didn’t seem to be making any more progress into the journal than before. He didn’t feel like explaining the intricacies of it all, instead opting for “it’s a never-ending tome, but only if I use it.” Somehow, that explanation satisfied her.

Upon closing the book, an hour after starting, he realized he felt refreshed; he felt as if he could once again cast a spell, as well as there were no wound on the back of his head. Of course, there very much still was, but it had begun to scab over. If he left it alone, it’d likely turn into a nasty scar, nothing more. ~~The luxuries of having another set of eyes.~~ They had to linger another fifteen minutes after that, as the men that descended into the pit had waited on coming up.

Fjord was the first to speak up after the rest was over. “Shall we make our way back downstairs to see what this rod does in the little hole?” He inquired, drawing a dirty chuckle from the cleric- a phrase the red tiefling would _never_ get over thinking.

“I thought we were supposed to turn the ceiling from up here, no?” Nott piped up, Raelan’s eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

Jester began to say something, the beginning of which he didn’t catch. “I think the corkscrew’s going to stick in the hole and move the whole room or something.”

“The eyes were for uncovering all that death underneath our feet,” Caleb piped up in agreement.

“The ceiling is through here and it’s blocked by a bunch of rubble,” Beau explained, that being the moment the tiefling realized he’d apparently missed important discussion when he was zoned out downstairs. “We can try and dig through it if we think something should be up here.” It seemed more an admission of defeat than actually trying to help Nott’s case.

“No, we should just use the stairs.” He would’ve felt bad for Nott, had he not been absorbed in absolute confusion. Smaller discussions broke out, though the general consensus was that the group would go downstairs, taking what was on the bottom of the urns with them.

From there he was mostly playing catch-up. They were apparently going to send ‘Schmidt’ to place the rod in the hole in the center- that much he agreed with- and turn it so that the similar symbols would line up. He still thought it highly improbable there was a turning aspect, but seeing he had no alternative, he kept quiet, allowing the discussion to happen. Jester was more confused, and from there he got to hear the explanation on Beau’s diagram. If they managed to line them up, they would match evocation, divination, and necromancy.

It made sense to him, save the turning aspect.

Upon arrival, Caleb cast a spell, the like of which he quickly realized was _unseen servant_. Schmidt, apparently, took the rod from his hands and walked into the room, placing it in the hole. It locked into place with a soft _click_.

“Something bad might happen once we turn this, so be on guard,” Beau piped up- a sentiment the tiefling simply didn’t respond to, leaning against a wall with arms folded. He could very well be wrong, but there was some urge to be _validated_ , to prove he was- at least in this- better than the group, and that they needed him.

It was a shitty urge. He didn’t like it.

“Schmidt, please revolve that staff counter-clockwise, please.” The moment of truth. Nothing seemed to happen. Everyone seemed confused. “Well, try it clockwise then, Schmidt.” Again, nothing. “Well that’s a load of bollocks, then.”

 _Validation._ Molly noticed the small smirk on the smaller tiefling’s face, playfully nudging him. “Wipe that smug look off your face, why don’t you?” He simply grinned harder, shaking his head defiantly.

“Maybe it’s got to be a real person,” Jester began. “Maybe you have to cast a spell that has to do with the class of magic!” Raelan clapped at that, just once, drawing their eyes.

“I think Jester’s been right,” he remarked, but was quickly overshadowed by Molly piping up.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” the lavender man announced, scuttling off towards the stairwell.

“I’m going to join Molly, I think someone needs to be upstairs. You guys stay,” Beau agreed before racing off to catch up.

In the interim, Raelan entered the room, glancing around with his book in hand. He didn’t _like_ waiting around. He wanted to be _right._ To _win._ It felt cruel and twisted but _he_ wanted to be the one to do it. He just needed to figure out if that was the right combination of magic schools.

Not too long after, the pair returned with the glowing rock from the stairwell. The man peeked in the room, waving the stone to see if there was a reaction. There wasn’t. “We’ve got these bowls,” he suggested, placing one on the star symbol to see what happened.

In all honestly, he’d forgotten about the bowls; the pieces of urn with the schools at the bottom. Nothing happened when he simply placed them down, nor when he tried to adjust them. “Cast a spell on one of the bowls!” Jester cried, now _desperately_ wanting to be right.

“Why don’t we try a person to use the rod first before we start wasting spells?” Nott suggested, which frustrated the red tiefling. Without wasting another beat, he walked up to the pedestal and visibly tried to move it. Nothing. The other way just unlocked it.

“Twisting it only locks or unlocks it in place, dumbasses,” he muttered back to them, looking for the design the group designated necromancy. He had a cantrip for that. Nott tried to urge Yasha to go ahead, which only irritated him more. “It doesn’t _work like that_ , Nott!” He snapped, nostrils flaring as he looked back to her. “It _clicked_ into place. It locks or unlocks. It doesn’t _move_.”

He felt bad for snapping at her, but honestly her insistence was pissing him off. It wasn’t productive and completely dismissed Jester’s idea. A moment later, he muttered the words for the spell _chill touch_ on the bowl atop the diamond. Just as Jester predicted, the necromantic energy seemed to be siphoned into the top of the metallic rod.

“I was right!” Jester exclaimed gleefully, everyone applauding her before he felt something. _Thump._ There was a shifting of stone, following by a faint slithering sound within the chamber. _Oh, right. The danger part._ He was so caught up in gaining all the glory and proving Jester right, he’d completely forgotten the warning of danger when it was activated.

Something above him boomed. Fear clutching him after the experience in the chamber above, he didn’t stand around and wait for it to strike him, rushing over and colliding with his purple friend, nearly toppling the both of them over. The domed section of the pillar above him opened up, a translucent cube-like creature falling into the center of the chamber.

_Fucking shit._

Caleb was the first to react; he hurried back into the doorway, pulling a small, clay, cat paw from his component’s pouch as he muttered an incantation under his breath. A collection of soil appeared on the ground, a cat’s paw rising from the stone and swiping at the cube. It managed to grasp the creature with its claws, not only damaging it, but effectively holding it in place. Everyone saw the opportunity that arose and their eyes lit up. After that, he sat on the ground, determined not to break concentration.

The blue tiefling acted next, backing up a few feet as she began a soft incantation, holy symbol in hand. The familiar radiant flame leapt from her hand, aimed directly for the large cube. It reacted, the ripples of energy flowing throw it almost comedically.

Both of the melee women glanced at each other, confused, before racing towards the cube. Beau arrived first, attempting to hurt it with her staff. It seemed to impact it, though the staff nearly got stuck inside the mass. She followed the attack up with her fist, impacting the strange creature before shaking it as if it caused her pain. Seeing her fellow warrior approach, she moved around the ooze to be opposite with her ally as she approached.

Her friend followed, moving forward already preparing to swing her greatsword upon the creature. Even despite nearly tripping, she was still able to slice her blade inside with relative ease. She managed to cut a corner of it off, a thick sludge falling to the ground. She then backed up, not wanting to risk getting hit. Unfortunately, even the strange thing noticed the opportunity, reaching out and burning acid into the large woman with a pseudopod.

Raelan and Molly simply glanced at one another, a quick nod before the latter of the two raced forward, slicing open part of his arm as ice crystals formed around the blade. Scimitars at the ready, he swung at a corner, running the jagged blade through it. The attack left a strange shape behind, a smirk on the purple tiefling’s face before he backed up, allowing his ally opportunity to attack in turn.

The familiar, favorite incantation left the smaller man’s lips, a demented grin on his face as he aimed a finger towards the cube, hoping to _Ioun_ that he wouldn’t be the fool to miss. A bolt of arcane energy hurled forward, similar to the one that always left Fjord’s blade, before colliding with the side of this strange creature, taking a sizeable chunk with it. The two tiefling men then briefly made eye contact, proud of their work.

The two green members then took their turn, the smaller of the pair firing her crossbow into the strange monster. She seemed to have picked her spot carefully, as the bolt burrowed itself straight through the center and out the other side. Satisfied with the whole she created, she moved around the creature before firing another bolt, not as damaging but certainly effective.

The warlocks made brief eye contact, pleased expressions on their faces, before the larger of the two suddenly pointed his finger towards the creature, with a cry of _“Eldritch Blast!”_ Honestly, he found it comical his verbal aspect was more often than not just saying the spell. The familiar bolt of magical energy pummeled the side of the creature, more than doubling the size of the hole the previous warlock made.

At long last, the cube began moving, successfully managing to escape the claw by shifting its form strangely. It began to slowly drift towards Jester, stopping just between her and the monk. Due to the lack of movement, the wizard attempted to capture it again with the claw, sadly failing to encapsulate it this time. Seeing everything falling apart, his eyes wide, he stepped back into the hallway, hoping to god it didn’t approach.

Jester began making panic noises, barely managing to release an incantation amidst the gibberish, and the fear made the spell weak, easily fracturing upon the cube’s touch. She didn’t want to be so close to it, thus tried to back away from it and escape. The gelatin seemed to notice this and didn’t waste the opportunity to strike, landing a _tough_ hit on the cleric’s entire back. As the acid struck her body, a pained noise left her lips before her body went limp, falling to the ground, unconscious. A terrified noise escaped him, knowing the one with healing was _dying._

Beau and Yasha watched this happen, eyes wide. The former, desperate to take out the threat before anyone else could go down. A smack with the staff, followed by two more strikes with her fists. Even from his warped angle, the newcomer could see the desperation in her eyes. Yasha followed suit, veins bulging with fury as she released onto the creature. She pushed her blade deep into the middle of the creature slowly before finally being able to slide the creature in half, it collapsing to the ground.

Seeing the danger was dispatched, Fjord raced over to the unconscious cleric, pulling one of the bright red vials from his bag. A wave of relief washed over everyone in the room, watching their blue friend slowly wake up as some of the burns began closing on her back. “Oh, Oskar…” she muttered, still half-asleep.

“F-Fjord,” the man corrected, visibly uncomfortable as the dark-skinned woman and wizard laughed.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“It’s Fjord.”

With that, she rubbed her eyes, realizing the sight before her. “Sorry, I mean Fjord.”

His eyebrows were furrowed, watching her carefully. “Are you alright?” She tilted her head back, an insanely large grin spreading across her features.

“Yes~”

“Okay.” He pulled away, cheeks flushed a bit pink from embarrassment as he clutched her arm, helping her up. “Come on, on your feet.”

“Did we kill it?” Jester asked, to which Fjord simply responded in the affirmative.

Guilt welled up in the newcomer’s chest, seeing what his selfishness had done to his new friends. “I’m sorry, that- that was my fault,” he admitted solemnly, looking to the dispering pile of ooze atop the pedestal. A colorful hand clapped on his shoulder, returning his gaze to Molly.

“No, these things happen,” he insisted before turning and wrapping an arm around his shorter friend’s shoulders.

“Now the question is-“ Everyone turned towards the wizard, still partway down the hall. “If we do the same thing again, will another one come out? Or do we need to try to hit all three at the same time?” The voice grew less faint as he returned, Raelan shrugging with uncertainty. He very quickly decided that after two incidents having been caused by his emotions getting out of control, he wasn’t going to risk that happening again. At least until he got proper rest.

“Well,” the monk piped up, glancing between the myriad of spellcasters. “If you hit all with everything at once, then the worst that can happen is that we just have to fight _two_ more things at the same time.” He was uncertain if that was sarcasm or genuine.

“Well hold on,” Caleb piped up, looking between the spellcasters in the group. “Raelan did necromancy, and I can obviously handle- well, I can handle evocation or…”

“Who has divination, though?” Jester piped up, puzzled. The red tiefling glanced between the others before landing on Caleb.

“I don’t have any I can cast instantaneously, but at least if it came down to it I know Caleb can handle that with Identify. Bit of a waste, though,” he suggested.

“Guys, the pillar base re-closed,” Nott piped up, everyone’s eyes following hers until they saw the same. _That doesn’t bode well._

“Can you do one of those things?” The wizard piped up, glancing to his goblin friend. He recalled seeing her cast a spell earlier, for possibly the first time. Was the red-haired man teaching her magic?

“I don’t know. You taught me magic,” Nott began to speak, stuttering and nervous at the possibility of being put on the spot as a magic user.

“Well, tell me what you are able to do,” he gently coerced, to which she began whispering to him, listing off what she knew.

“I’m sure any of us can handle evocation. We’re a fucking adventuring party, if we have spells that can hurt or heal, we have spells that are evocation,” the red man piped up, glancing between Jester and Fjord. “It’s really a matter of divination. Fjord’s out of the picture, since even I don’t have any divination cantrips and I know he wouldn’t want to waste his limited magic on it even if he did have it-“ He cut himself off, realizing he was rattling on and become too much a presence. He cowered back, hiding behind Molly again.

“I can do evocation!” Nott suddenly announced proudly, to which Caleb responded by ruffling her hair up.

“So you handle evocation,” the wizard pointed to the small friend, clearly wanting her to feel some sense of pride. “I can handle the divination.” He then pointed towards the newcomer. “You handle necrotic.” An agreeing nod before Jester suddenly spoke up.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Everyone’s gaze turned to her as she continued speaking. “Maybe we should take the bowls outside of the room and cast something on the bowls and see if one of the symbols on the bowls light up. That way, the staff doesn’t absorb the spell immediately,” she suggested.

Raelan’s eyes lit up with realization. “That’s brilliant,” he piped up, a proud smile on her face. “When I cast _chill touch_ , I tried for the bowl, but it got sucked into the staff first. Maybe there’s something to be gained from the bowl instead.”

“Can’t we just cast it on the staff?” The goblin piped up, confused.

“There is a room outside this room where… it seems like there was just a room for maybe preparing the bowls?” Molly added. The room seemed to be in agreement.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Jester, lead the way.” The blue girl seemed to smile brightly, proud of her ideas so far.

“Maybe the bowls have certain spells,” Beau piped up, although it was mostly drowned out by the others.

“It is worth a try. Of course it is,” Caleb agreed. The positive energy in the room, now that everyone had seen the consequences of failure, was absolutely fascinating.

“Just so we don’t have to fight another cube, just in case,” she said, although much quieter. _Gods_ , it must’ve been terrifying and painful for her. The wizard and the cleric continued to talk while the half-orc and the dark-skinned woman began gathering the bowls. After a few moments of banter, the zemnian’s voice piped up again.

“Is everyone okay? Jester, how are you feeling?”

A gentle smile crossed her face. “I’m feeling like I’m a little sick right now, but you know. Like I’m bleeding a little from my ears.” With that, the man began to reach into his satchel, the goblin noticing this and attempting to convince him to keep it; that she’ll handle it. Despite the protest, he handed the blue cleric his small healing potion, a seemingly neutral expression on his face.

“I’ve got healing spells still!” She insisted, pushing the potion back towards him. He seemed confused, but accepted the refusal nonetheless.

At that point, the bowl-carriers let out a cough, drawing eyes their way. The smaller of the male tieflings hurried along, pulling away from his friend in excitement for what was to follow. The others soon followed, and once they were laid out, the cleric piped up again.

“Should we try casting a spell on one of the bowls and see what happens?” She inquired, thus sparking a bit of discussion about the necessity of doing it all at the same time. Caleb seemed to end it, suggesting it couldn’t do harm, so the three of them lined up before a bowl, ready to release their incantations.

Beau, in the spirit of the moment, took the sash from around her belt off, holding it in the air. _Ah_. After a few beats of intense staring, she suddenly threw her arm down, signaling the go-ahead. All at once, they released their spells, they examined them, looking for any changes. Nothing. _Huh._ He could’ve sworn that would do something. After an albeit disappointed bit of discussion, they began to pick up the bowls a bit solemnly.

Caleb muttered something under his breath, something that while the newcomer didn’t hear, he understood the frustrated tone of something just _not making sense._

“Why don’t we cast it on the rod?” Nott piped up, frustrated with the situation. He didn’t want to dismiss her idea, even if it was annoying him, because all she wanted was to find the easiest solution.

Thankfully, Caleb was the one to speak up in protest. “No, I…” A confused noise as he seemed deep in thought.

“Do we need to set these on fire?” Jester asked, excitement in her eyes.

“We maybe need to go upstairs and scoop some of the dustbuster bullshit into these and bring them down,” the wizard suggested. It seemed a bit extreme to Raelan, there reasoning not all there. The fire made more sense to him, as sometimes different materials made things glow differently, which sometimes revealed hidden messages.

Still, he was adamant after the first time not to cause havoc with his opinions.

As if reading his mind, Fjord and Beau parroted Jester’s suggestion of setting them on fire, perhaps seeing the same thing he did. She repeated herself, seemingly pleased at her genius. After a bit more debate, the wizard cast fire at one of the bowls as everyone crowded around to see what would happen. As the fire left, portions of the symbols were glowing, slowly fading with time.

“Hold the torch!” Jester exclaimed. “Maybe they will stay longer!”

The same thought seemed to cross everyone’s mind: who would hold the hot bowl?

As if simultaneously, the two male tieflings each volunteered before looking at one another. “I’m resistant to fire,” Molly explained, to which Raelan nodded in agreement. The pair seemed temporarily locked in a battle before the purple one furthered. “I’m able to take more hits than you are. I can get a little hurt and be fine. _I’ll hold the bowl_ ,” he repeated.

As much as the smaller man wanted to fight it, he didn’t. He promised himself. He simply nodded his head, stepping back and allowing his ally to grasp the edges of the strange bowl. A small amount of pain crossed his face the more time the torch was held under it, but true to theory, the symbols began to glow.

Certain symbols seemed to glow more than others, a realization striking the magic users. Jester voiced it best: “We were wrong about what we needed to cast!”

Raelan’s eyes looked at the brighter symbols, listing off the types of spells. “Illusion, transmutation and enchantment.”

“I can do that!” Nott exclaimed gleefully. “I can do illusion!”

“I have an enchantment,” Jester piped up.

“Is it a cantrip?” The red tiefling inquired, eyebrows raised. “I’ve got an enchantment cantrip, and I’d rather you not waste magic where unnecessary.” She shook her head, solidifying the person of that school with her answer.

“I have transmutation,” Caleb spoke, a hint of excitement in his voice. That seemed much easier than before; the roles seemed simple.

“I’ve got an idea,” Molly piped up, still holding the bowl as he glanced around. “I think I know how it works.”

“I don’t know how anything works, I’m very drunk,” Nott added, almost pleased as she said that.

“This is great,” the purple tiefling continued, as if the goblin hadn’t said anything. “I think this is a guide. We know was we need to know because of these bowls. I think that we need all three of these versions of the spells placed at these points,” he explained, pointing to the place in Beau’s journal. She seemed to process that.

“We put the bowls…”

“We don’t need the bowls!” Jester cried out, confirming Nott’s earlier suggestion. Meanwhile, the goblin seemed frustrated still at the idea that there wasn’t any turning involved. The group, not feeling a lot more confident, hurried into the room, Mollymauk clapping as if he were a stage director.

The man’s eyes glanced towards the trio involved. “Everybody, get to their places.” As his eyes landed on the fellow tiefling man, he playfully winked, sending a wave of vibrant red to rush across his face. Turning away, he very fakely coughed, moving to his point and rehearsing the incantation required. “Hey!” He raised his head to look at his ally who had called for his attention. “If anything happens, I want you to run for the door.” The sentiment brought comfort to the smaller man, a feeling of security and _he cares for me._ At least, until a moment later, when he realized he probably meant it towards the _group_ and not him in particular.

_Stupid boy._

“Me and Fjord will be on standby in case anything else drops out of the ceiling,” Beau called out, a silent nod from everyone involved.

The trio’s eyes met, all ready to release their spells when the go was called. “Where are we casting it on?” Nott asked to confirm.

“At the staff,” the wizard spoke briefly. Another few moments of silence, everyone taking a deep breath. Beau’s belt returned from the corner of his eye, raised erect in the air. He mentally counted the beats, waiting for the moment the sash came flying down.

_Three._

He released his spell, as did the other two, and all at once the energy dispersed before siphoning once more into the rod. Fearful of what may happen, the three in the center scrambled back, finding all the warriors ready in case something happened. Raelan nearly fell into Mollymauk as he stared at the glowing rod. Everyone held their breath for the moment _something_ happened.

And then it came, this time not a monster from the pillar, but the grinding of stone from across the chamber. A false wall began to rotate open, revealing a hallway on the opposite end. Even after it opened, everyone waited, terrified at what may come. After moments of nothing happening, the half-orc sighed. “Well, I cast _armor of agathys_ for nothing.” Beau clapped him on the shoulder in an attempt at being comforting.

“Hey, you still have it for an hour.” He nodded, seeming to agree with that statement.

“Well, I’m wearing it.” With that said, he rushed over to the new door, unphased at any potential danger.

“Wait!” The wizard called out, immediately sitting down and repeating his ritual from earlier. The larger man didn’t do anything after reaching the threshold, simply gazing forward and attempting to see what he could.

The red tiefling let out a breath he’d been holding, muscles relaxing now that he no longer felt he was in danger. His purple companion clapped his hand on the smaller one’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. Nothing more was said, but his company seemed to be enough.

 _Gods_ , he really needed to address those feelings somehow. Not now, at any rate, he decided, sitting his ass on the ground and taking the chance to just _breathe._

“Well,” Fjord’s voice spoke up from the opposite doorway, drawing the tiefling’s eye. “We got more magic stuff inside. I know Caleb’s meditating, but… it’s going to get hairy, I bet.” A quieter comment followed, but he didn’t care enough in the moment to wonder about it. Yasha followed just behind, torch in hand.

From what was described to him, the chamber ahead was very ominous, and he didn’t feel comfortable moving ahead without Caleb. Everyone else seemed to move inward save the Beau, himself, and the wizard. Nott seemed to be efficiently drunk, the banter between her and Yasha audible from across the chamber.

“Beau?” Jester piped up, still not feeling good. “Should I use one of my last spells to heal myself?” Her expression showed she was very conflicted on the matter.

“Jester, you should always look out for yourself first, alright?” It seemed very matter of fact, and somewhat kind from the abrasive woman. The blue girl still didn’t seem to like that answer, thus the half-orc instead offered her a healing potion. She felt a bit conflicted about that too, but significantly less so.

“There’ll always be more money.”

God, at this rate, the newcomer hoped so.


	8. The Chamber Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having solved the puzzle, the Nein begin to examine the now-opened chamber behind the stone wall.

Raelan’s entire body tensed as he overheard the search from the other room, sitting upon the raised platform nearby the wizard who was steadily growing closer to completing the ritual. He desperately hoped that if the others found themselves in danger, it either wouldn’t happen until the red-haired man was available, or they could handle it themselves without his involvement.

“There’s another urn full of ash!” The half-orc called from the other room, the tiefling’s eyes growing wide. _Oh no._ He hoped they didn’t have to deal with that but understood they more than likely would. Thankfully, it was around then the spell completed nearby, the disheveled man rising to his feet and picking up his spellbook.

Seeing his new ally no longer needing protection, the newcomer followed suit, hurriedly making his way to watch the investigation and _praying_ the wisps weren’t in the room. On the right hand side he quickly spied the two circus folk examining a pair of rusted cages, a nervous energy flooding his body. A pause, followed by the more colorful of the pair speaking up. “Would I be insane for thinking this is how they make them?”

“Make what?” Nott asked, piping up with the question that filled his head as well.

“No, I don’t think so.” Fjord responded that time.

“The will o’ wisps.” Jester seemed to pick up on the situation quickly, glancing to her smaller friend. A contemplative, heavy sigh erupted from many in the group, none knowing quite enough about the creatures to say one way or another.

Caleb decided to speak up about it. “The will o’ wisps are the dead. They are left from the _dead_ ,” he stated flatly, though the newcomer understood where his friend was coming from.

“But not everyone that dies becomes a wisp. There’s got to be some underlying mechanism, right?” Nobody knew the answer, though Molly nodded, appreciative of his ally’s attempt at understanding.

“I think this was a factory, maybe?” At the lavender man’s words, the half-orc began to cross the room before stopping in the middle, standing amidst a seemingly inert magic circle. The newcomer’s brows furrowed, a curiosity burning within him. It seemed like a teleportation circle, though scarred and closed from either time or vandalism. Part of him feared that it would suddenly awaken, in spite of his understanding that _it didn’t work like that._

“I feel like-“ The green man’s words suddenly drew the eye of those in the room, pulling his companion from his thoughts as he did so. “This was used to move or deliver people or things. This was a center for transportation.” At first, he was uncertain if the man meant the room or the circle itself, but in thinking on it, either answer seemed appropriate.

“The fuck are you talking about?” The goblin hissed, taking another swig from her flask. She had to be intoxicated at this point, he decided, but figured it best not to act on it. A confused few moments, followed by a delayed realization. “Sounds good, Fjord.”

He had to admit, the goblin’s antics were amusing.

From there, a lot of things began happening, as was the nature of an eight-person investigation. Seven, he supposed, as he stood around, not knowing where to even begin. Around that moment was the time Caleb finally entered the room, seemingly heading straight for the bookshelf, as was typical, honestly. The wizard’s eyes briefly landed on the out-of-use teleportation circle before continuing about his mission, whatever that was. He stilled, face contorted in a way that seemed he was trying to examine something amidst the darkness.

Molly seemed to notice this as well, offering the purple stone from his pocket. “I’ve got a light stone,” he reminded the man, though the excitable cleric got to it first, taking it from his hand and beginning to climb the bookshelf to illuminate a carving above it, no doubt what the wizard was trying to examine. The shelf itself was mostly empty, as if the room had either been destroyed or scavenged.

Above the shelf seemed to be an ornamental blade, bolted into the wall as if on display. Upon this being revealed, the large warrior woman’s eyes widened with interest. “Is this trapped on the wall?” The blue-skinned woman called down, drawing the attention of the goblin.

“You want me to check it?” She piped up, almost a hiss.

“Climb on the bookshelf with me!” A response of sorts, everyone watching the spectacle. After a few moments and near-stumbles, the cleric seemed satisfied. “Should I pull it out?”

“Yeah, pull it off. I’ll give you all of my health potions in one day,” the half-orc called back, although the sentiment bordered between encouraging and spiteful. The newcomer chose to believe it was the former.

A metallic noise; the cheerful woman had managed to release it, though the momentum was drawing her backward from the bookshelf. Everyone saw this, the three women doing everything they could to ensure her safety. A brief plummet before the two warrior women caught her in their arms, easing her to the ground from there. “Good job not getting stabbed, you guys, because this is sharp-looking!” From her, it was clear it was a compliment, the other women with gentle… smiles of sorts on their faces.

“That looks _awesome_ ,” the monk remarked, looking at the weapon the smaller girl waved around in her hands- clearly not trained for its use. It was an immensely heavy-looking blade with a gold hilt and a myriad of small runes inscribed on the edge. The blade itself was _thick_ , seemingly something only the large woman could even attempt to wield. As everyone took in the appearance of the sword, it became clear the aforementioned woman was very, very interested.

“This is a sacrificial blade for _sure_ ,” Jester whispered with interest. “Can you identify it?” She then seemed to hand it over to the wizard, although the way she did so it was more of a pointer and less of a weapon.

“I obviously can do that,” he began, interrupting Nott who began to speak up. “and I have a little bit of reserve left, but we are still not… topside yet, so we can either sit for ten minutes and either Raelan or I can tell you exactly what it does, we sit for five minutes and we both tell you exactly what it does, or we wait until later.” A small bit of pride welled in the newcomer’s chest, feeling at least temporarily important due to his mention. “But I’m not willing to do this-“

“No more ten minutes,” Beau whined, an amused noise leaving the newcomer at the sight.

“I don’t think five is acceptable either,” the red tiefling piped up, glancing at the ashy urns around them. Due to the response, Jester attempted to strap it to her back in the meantime. The last tiefling suggested the bag, but the blue girl seemed anxious about potentially damaging it.

It seemed the half-orc saw the newcomer’s anxious gaze towards the urns. “Shouldn’t we, for good measure, be breaking up these other ceramic-?”

The purple man glanced towards the wizard. “Are those ceramic pots giving anything off?” It was _then_ the smaller man realized the spell his ally had been casting this whole time, which only made him feel stupid. As the question was asked, the red-haired man seemed to be searching the tables nearby, giving only the faintest indication of a response.

Not even a moment later, the addressed man kneeled under the table, grasping something in his hand as he returned to a standing position. It seemed to be a book, which obviously interested the fellow scholar who approached, with a corner burned heavily. The former’s eyes followed a trail before landing on one of the braziers across the room. Realization struck him before opening the pages warily, eyes darting over the text. Both the men’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “Can you read this?” The wizard asked, turning to his newer companion.

He simply shook his head. “It’s not elvish, infernal, or primordial, so I haven’t a clue.” A small, frustrated sigh from his ally. “Is it not anything you know?” Instead of answering his question, the wizard murmured an incantation, likely a _comprehend languages_ , which seemed answer enough. Part of him wondered what he did know.

“It’s draconic,” the wizard muttered as the words seemed to morph into something more understandable. Gods, he desperately wanted to know what was inside. The man took the book away from his ally, turning and beginning to wander as he quickly read the contents silently to himself. “A journal… from someone named Siff Duthar.” Okay, that was something. Nothing else was offered, though the man’s eyebrows furrowed as he continued reading.

After processing what was read, he glanced around to all watchful eyes before reading it over. The contents were… horrid. This Siff was a mage from before the Divergence, talking of his studies, of war, of secrets, of nearly being assassinated; of the betrayer gods, of Ghor Dranas, of his desperation to preserve his life; of showing the gods they are not above their creations.

 _Jesus_ , it was a historical relic that further proved the insanity of mages from the Age of Arcanum as well as giving insight to the room around them.

Once Caleb finished reading, nobody spoke for a good few moments, attempting to process the information. Molly was the first to speak with a morbid curiosity. “What’s in the urn?”

The monk seemed to nod, intrigued at the implications of the text. “Yeah, _from ashes shall rise again?_ Are we going to fight some guy who’s going to chop off our legs?” It was partly a joke, but also a genuine question- or at least, he thought.

“What?” Jester piped up, confused.

“It talked about chopping off our legs!” Oh, no, it was entirely genuine.

“The bounty hunter chopped off Siff’s legs. He’s not going to take ours,” he explained, attempting to comfort the woman.

“The sword was from the person who tried to save Siff?” You know, maybe he _was_ wrong and everyone else was right. He instead turned his attention towards his purple ally whose eyebrows were knitted together in frustration or concern. Without another word, he turned towards the cages, moving to examine them further. Jester piped up with another question. “What was that thing about _fire or ice_? You know, it said _fire or ice_ -“ Caleb tried to gently interrupt her talking.

“Jester, Jester.” She eased, turning towards him. “While Molly is looking around, hold that for me.” He motioned towards the sword. “Hold it still.” It took a few moments for her to realize, and apparently, he began the _identify_ spell.

Something was bothering the red tiefling. There wasn’t… there was something wrong. They needed to do something about the urns, if one followed the timetable as was in the other room, the wisps would arrive soon-

Why was he so cold?

He began to shiver, not taking well to the sudden temperature change. Even with the additional layers he’d worn, it _still_ didn’t feel like enough. His breath was visible in the room- _everyone’s_ breath was visible. The blue tiefling began to panic as her red companion’s eyes darted across the room, looking for the danger he so desperately feared.

A faint flicker of light from the urn of ashes. “Wisps!” He shouted, turning around and trying to locate the orbs.

“We’ve got a problem!” Molly echoed, making somewhat wary eye contact with his friend. The circle beneath him began to glow darker, a familiar terror surging within him. “Run!” His ally shouted towards him, the final push the newcomer needed to race towards him in desperation, just barely colliding with him when a shadow emerged from it.

A humanoid figure of pure shadow, wrapped in a similar whipping cloak, rose from the circle. The cloth was tattered and shifting around, a horrible sound like a storm’s wind emanating from it. The ghastly, flesh-stretched face of the skull stared forward ominously, a rasping, omniscient voice spoke. _“Now the secrets are yours…”_ It hissed.

From there, the soft glow of the will o’ wisps began to emerge from the ash. The figure simply hovered there, not yet taking any sort of aggressive action. Everyone stared at it in horror.

“Are-“ Jester began. “Are you Siff?” The head turned towards her without an answer, it’s rasping non-breaths escaping. The party exchanged terrified looks, trying to understand the situation.

“He said he wants to tell us secrets or something. I like secrets,” the dark-skinned woman piped up, though the newcomer didn’t feel that was the case at all. The pair of them began rambling nervously until the creature slowly glided towards the monk. Scattered, spooked noises erupted, the hands around the red man’s shoulders pulling him back a step or two with him.

“Give him something!” Nott suggested, terror in her eyes. “Information, news, _something._ ” An idea seemed to pop into the tiefling girl’s head.

“I have a secret for you!” The expression on her face very much said that she was trying to fake confidence. After a pause, it seemed very interested. “Did you know… that in Nicodranas… the pastries are made with cinnamon…” Everyone seemed terrified at the response. “And here they’re not?”

There was a brief moment where the entity’s head, much like a young puppy confused by a sound, it’s head snapped again in Jester’s direction. “A secret for trade…” It whispered, it’s hand outstretched towards her. Was that an acceptance? Whispers began to escape from it’s body, an overwhelming cacophony directed towards the tiefling and her nearby allies. _Oh no, no it wasn’t._

The largest and smallest of the women covered their ears, managing to protect themselves. Meanwhile, Beau’s eyes clouded for a moment and she swung her staff, nearly colliding with Yasha. The cloudiness dissipated, and the woman seemed to show immediate remorse for nearly hurting her ally.

Seeing this entity now mage aggressive action, Nott began to run, screaming as she sprinted for the opposite corner. She raised her hand crossbow, ready for it to attack. Yasha acted next, narrowing her eyes at it.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot,” she attempted to negotiate, not yet drawing her weapon. “You said _my secrets are yours_. So did you want to give us a secret?”

“I’ve already given you a piece,” it hissed, turning its head in jolted movements. “More?”

The pale woman stilled for a second, likely trying to process the implications of that statement. Ultimately, she decided to pull out her greatsword and rushed forward to attack, an enraged cry from her throat. The force of her fury helped the blade slice through him. The torn bits of cloth tried to grasp and pull the sword from her grip, thankfully unsuccessfully.

 _Click-click-click._ The head suddenly snapped to face towards Yasha, staring at her with its empty eye sockets. The noise alone sent horrid chills down his spine.

From the cage behind him, the familiar glowing orb began to move, maneuvering in a position to attack either him or his lavender ally. Conflicting fear washed over the newcomer; he didn’t want to experience the pain he witnessed his allies suffered earlier, but he didn’t want to abandon Molly to it either. Instead, he watched helplessly as the spirit began to flicker, moving to reach out towards one of them. Thankfully, whichever it was aiming for, it didn’t land an attack, and seemingly neither did any of the others.

He thought so, at least, until he heard a pained cry from Fjord across the room. The red man’s eyes widened in fear as he realized that while there was only one enemy surrounding the both of him and Molly, two enemies were on Fjord. He would quickly get overwhelmed if nothing was done about it.

A loud chattering noise suddenly rang in the tiefling’s ears as his eyes darted around, looking for the source. In spite the lack of jaw movement from the shadow entity, he _knew_ it had to be from him as an overwhelming cacophony of whispers seemed to rattle his brain. It was sensory overload hell, except it felt like it was _inside_ of him; nothing he did mattered because it wouldn’t get _out_.

He tried desperately to _do something_ , but the voices seemed to take hold of him; his muscles wouldn’t listen because they just _couldn’t hear_ over the sound of the voices. He _felt_ his own voice _seep_ from his throat; unable to hear his own words, though he knew he was muttering out a desperate _“help.”_

He felt a hand on his shoulder, _something_ to tether him to reality for a brief moment. As he tried desperately to focus on it, he felt his muscles suddenly ease. The voices vanished and a heavy breath entered his lungs. Blinking furiously, his mind was able to make sense of his surroundings just enough to get himself back on his feet and watch his friend pull back from the cage, seeming to have made no progress in breaking the urn.

 _Fuck_ , his body hurt. Everything felt just a bit too _loud_ , but he could move again, maybe? He could think.

“Nott, deal with this!” Mollymauk cried out, barely five feet away from the overwhelmed man. He winced a bit, though tried to save at least a bit of face as he tried to figure out what he should do.

The half-orc across the room tried to send an eldritch bolt of energy at one of the urns, instead bending part of the metal cage. The noise was _horrendous_ , but the effort was better than none. He seemed to want to flee before glancing around, realizing he was pinned, instead holding out his longsword in preparation.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help!” The goblin to his left called out, seeming to have just recovered from the same experience; Yasha as well, just before the wisps began to make their move once more.

The tiefling once again seemed to lose control of his muscles as he felt a jolt of pain shoot through his body from his arm- the one nearest him and his friend managed to hit him while he was vulnerable, and it was _painful._ His entire left side felt like one, large muscle spasm, a cry of unfamiliar pain escaped him as he felt tears fall from his eyes; when did they water? After a few moments he felt his muscles ease, although sore as a _mother_.

Standing straighter in an attempt to lessen the pain in his body, he watched as the shadow figure flew into the air by a pillar, nearly twenty feet up. Yasha watched with frustration as she couldn’t attack it now that it was elevated, as did the monk. A moment later, it seemed to contemplate before flying down again towards the warrior, reaching a necromantic hand out towards her. The woman’s face contorted with pain before she realized it withdraw and swung at the creature, pulling it back so it was unable to leave. It hissed furiously, the cloth tendrils town even further apart as its stomach was exposed.

_Oh, we might have this._

The monk, spying the opportunity, raced forward, hurling herself onto her ally’s shoulders with a vial in hand. As she jumped from her ally’s back and into the air, she did her best to throw the bottle down and shatter it across the creature’s feet. Radiant flames suddenly erupted across the front of the creature, burning it as it let out another hissed cry. The dark skinned woman landed on the ground with ease, turning around and landing two more blows with her fist.

The wizard, amongst the cluster of people, took steps forward, muttering words under his breath as he outstretched his hands, thumbs touching one another in a manner _very_ familiar to the newcomer: _burning hands._ He watched the darker colored flames lap up its body, albeit much slower than the radiant fire.

As Molly began to move again, the newcomer saw his opportunity. His eyes trained on a specific point across the room next to the pillar by Fjord, he began muttering an incantation under his breath. Right before releasing the last word, holding onto the tug of arcane energy in his chest, he glanced to his companion beside him. “Good luck!” With that, he finished his _misty step_ , blinking and finding himself facing the pillar he wanted to be beside.

He could barely see the urns in either of the cages on this side of the room, but it was better than nothing. Releasing the incantation he’d rehearsed many times, eyes directed towards the cage furthest from the battle this side of the room. The bolt of arcane energy left his hand, slipping between the bars and colliding with the urn as is shattered, ash scattering everywhere.

“Hit the pots! Hit the bloody pots!” Molly’s voice cried out from across the room, though cut off by a _loud_ cry of electrified pain.

From the other side of the pillar, he heard a similar noise, likely the wisp vanishing. He followed through with his movement by moving closer towards Fjord, now opposite the wisp from him with an understanding nod. Unfortunately, this also put him directly beside the shadow figure, but he wasn’t concerned as he saw multiple of his friends also nearby, including his lavender companion. The wisp likely rushed him after seeing the opportunity in his departure, sending jolts through the man’s body.

He saw the cleric fearfully clutching her holy symbol, presenting it towards the group of undead as she cried out to her god for help. A bright, deep blue light erupted from the symbol, pulsing throughout the room, carrying no effect to the living. The shadow figure winced, pulling away from the light, but the wisps now opposite the room from him all bean to shudder with… _fear_? To follow that action, she placed her hands on her worried chest, muttering an incantation before a faint, shimmering ward appeared around her, making her seem even more adorable than before?

Raelan would have to ask her what spell that was later.

The half-orc across from him, while appreciative of the advantage his flanking ally gave him, turned his attention towards the urn inside the cage once again, the familiar words of _“eldritch blast”_ leaving his lips. A familiar burst of energy collided with the ceramic, completely shattering the pot. The wisp between them completely vanished, a relieved breath leaving the both of them before they both turned their attention instead to the nearby shadow monster.

The goblin across the room aimed her crossbow into the cage directly next to her, the sound of clay breaking echoing as the third wisp faded from existence. _Just one wisp left_ , he sighed with relief. She scurried across the room, trying to make sure the one the newcomer destroyed was actually broken, turning and attempting to fire her crossbow at the truly remaining pot. A second shatter, the final wisp fading from existence.

Now it was just the group and the nearly re-dead Siff.

Noting this, the large woman swung her sword once more, colliding with the undead creature. The tattered robes was no longer able to stitch itself together, the essence of the creature now flickering like a candle.

Fear dripped the newcomer once more as he began to hear the cacophony of whispers approach once more. In desperation, he tried to curl in on himself, covering his ears to keep it out, yet no matter what he did it just _got inside._ His fingers gripping the hair on the top of his head, sharp edges of his piercings lightly digging into his skin as he _tried_ to keep it out, pressing his hands over his slightly elongated ears with just _no effect._

His nerves were on _fire_ , every little sound the voices or anyone else made causing his body to react as if he were in _pain_. The sensation felt so much like it, he _had_ to be dying. His brain was _splitting open_ ; his muscles were _imploding_ ; his lungs burning like a roaring flame because he couldn’t _breathe._ He felt the _desperate_ scream leave his chest.

In that moment, he wanted nothing but to die. Anything to save him from the pain.

Please, Ioun, just let him _die_.

Slowly, the whispers’ racket shifted into a more normal ringing, his body feeling a mixture of static and sore. A painful breath of cold air flooded his lungs as he blinked, his vision slowly returning to him. Again, he felt hands on him, this time larger and helping pull him to his feet. He saw green. _Fjord?_

Another breath as he looked at the situation around him: Fjord was next to him, helping him stand as he recovered- _gods_ he was in so much pain. Jester, with blood dripping from her ears, was standing at the edge of the raised platform by Molly, who was actively discarding another healing potion. The figure was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to ask, though, another wave of cold energy revealing itself through the bookcase. Everyone’s eyes grew wide with fear, knowing _none_ of them were ready to deal with killing it again.

 _He had to be a wisp too,_ he realized with horror, noticing the trend between undead and a physical tie. “We have to find his remains!” He shouted, looking around to the room who all seemed to understand- Caleb nodding as if he’d begun to have the same epiphany.

The creature, now looming over the two martial women. Its skeleton jaw hung open, faint whispers leaving it’s mouth, although much quieter due to the distance. The women clutched their heads as they curled forward, the larger of the two quickly stopping that action with a look of fear on her face.

Instead of swinging towards the creature, she swung towards her ally, _terrified-_ amplified by the fact her eyes began to bleed. A horrified look crossed the newcomer’s face, especially after she saw the nearby tiefling’s eyes had changed to a pitch-black, hand outstretched towards the attacking woman. _What did Molly do?_ Due to whatever he’d done, or possibly due to the shadowy figure, her attack went wide, her body collapsing to the ground, now unconscious. _Oh no._

Amidst the chaos that had ensued with Yasha, the newcomer realized the figure had vanished once more, this time not from being defeated. _Something had to be done._

The dark-skinned woman, knowing she couldn’t do anything about the unconscious warrior, quickly hopped over her body and tried to push the bookcase over with her staff as a crowbar. Even after an amount of visible exertion, it wouldn’t rock from its place. The wizard moved forward, standing over by Yasha, beginning an incantation with his eyes directed above.

Jester seemed conflicted, glancing between the bookshelf and her unconscious ally. Raelan didn’t have that sort of decision as he raced over to the pale woman, searching his bag for his healing potion. Part of him wanted to save it for himself, to drink it as he knew he was not far from unconsciousness himself, but he _knew_ she could do more than him.

As he approached, he heard gentle words pass by him and he whipped around. The blue ally had released a spell, a loud wakening gasp leaving the unconscious woman’s lips before he had time to wonder what it was. _That solved that_ , he decided, rising back to his feet and instead drinking the potion his lavender companion gifted him. The comforting warmth passed through his body, though the painful ache that made it hard to move mostly remained. The potion certainly helped some, but barely.

He watched as the blue woman raced towards the bookshelf, barely reaching it before yanking the side of it and pulling it over. Barely missing Frumpkin, it toppled to the ground, a small passageway now no longer hidden behind it. A scream left the cleric’s lips, one that sounded like fear but was likely intended to be relief or joy. The hole was too small for anyone to fit; one of the familiars could fit inside but Amethyst in her current form only barely.

 _Fucking shit._ His eyes darted towards his familiar, hovering in the air with her gaze fixated on the same point as the wizard’s. There was no way she could make it inside before it returned.

As he had this thought, the lavender tiefling rushed forward, peering inside the hole before digging his arm inside with his blade, eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to do _something_. Raelan understood there was nothing more he could do for them, instead readying an _eldritch blast_ for the moment the shadow revealed itself once more.

A shattering sound.

Silence filled the chamber as everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the creature would return. A dull, mournful breath came from it as it floated downward, slowly dissipating before scattering into nothing.

A bolt of flame crashed into it just before it did so and the newcomer’s surprised gaze fell to the wizard. Nobody said a word for a few moments, processing and hoping all was okay. Molly continued to examine the hole, though, yet not in any way indicative of danger.

Raelan just about crashed onto the floor next to Yasha, the adrenaline that had mostly been keeping him moving now leaving his body. He sat on the edge of the raised platform, head in his hands. _Gods_ he was in pain.

“We should rest, you guys,” the blue tiefling suddenly whined, discomfort visible in her expression. There wasn’t much argument, not that the newcomer paid much attention to it, his ears still slightly ringing from the multiple overstimulated episodes. Everything still seemed so _loud_ , although significantly quieter than before. He didn’t move an inch, save for the up-and-down of his chest as he breathed. He wanted _sleep._ He wanted to _leave._

A rest was a fine substitute, he supposed.

He didn’t know how long it was before someone sat next to him, the shadow barely visible beneath his curled position. He didn’t know who is was, either, not that he dared to care. A few moments passed before he heard a voice. “That was… uh… that was pretty intense, huh?” He was surprised to hear Fjord’s voice, blinking his eyes and moving his painfully sore body to look at the man.

The expression on his face was a lot more gentle than he was used to seeing, though his posture showed a bit of discomfort and awkwardness. Rather than respond, as the red man felt all his energy had been expended in the battle, he simply nodded, taking another deep breath as to show a bit of vulnerability.

“Are you alright?” Came the next question. He didn’t want to answer that one, not really. He didn’t want to seem _weak_ , even despite everything. Most of his injuries were internal, having no outward signs. If he explained how hurt he was, they’d think him weak. He nodded, blatantly lying. Even the man next to him seemed to not believe it, though. “I… I heard your screams. That Stiff guy, he really did a number, huh?”

Well, if he already knew, there was no use in lying.

Averting his gaze, the tiefling just nodded, biting his lip slightly in shame. “It’s… it’s alright to not be okay, you know.” Silence filled the air, as the younger man didn’t want to respond to that sentiment. He wasn’t in a place for deep thought, his brain was all but fried. “That’s not what I came over to say. I…” The man beside him cleared his throat. “Thank you.” His eyebrows furrowed, confused as he turned back to look at his new ally. “I… appreciate you coming to help me and Yasha.” He huffed.

“I didn’t help Yasha,” he mumbled, his voice _screaming_ with pain. Fjord shook his head.

“I saw you go over to try and help her. You were gonna use your potion, right?” Slowly and distrusting, he nodded. “I know you don’t have a lot of money and I… know how that effects how people think. It was a real brave thing to try and help her.” A sigh left the smaller man’s lips as he simply stared, not having the energy to fight back. “You came over to help me and got rid of one of those wispy fuckers for me. I can’t imagine how much more damage I’d’ve taken had you not helped out.” Again, he shrugged.

“I’m sure the others would’ve helped you,” he whispered, feeling as though all this kindness he’d received today was mostly undeserved.

“But _you_ did,” the green man pointed out, gently touching his smaller companion’s shoulder with a single finger. _So he remembered._ “I… I understand you’ve only known us a few days and… we haven’t been the most… _diplomatic_ bunch. Yet you still risked yourself and your valuables to help us out.” A pause fell over the two as the words began to slowly sink in. “That really speaks towards your character, and I respect that.” With that, the other warlock rose to his feet, extending a hand. Reluctantly, it was taken, and Raelan was pulled to his feet. “I’ll say it again: Welcome to the Might Nein. We’re glad to have you.”

For the first time in a long time, the brick-skinned man’s eyes watered over, not with pain, but with joy.


	9. Ordering Affaris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the battle is over, the next step is to gather loot and address their next course of action. And maybe have a meltdown or two in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic depictions of panic/anxiety attack towards the end of chapter.  
> It was hard to write, so I know it might be hard to read for some. Please prioritize your mental health over reading a part of the story that may trigger you.

Raelan was wrong. Apparently, Nott was small enough to fit inside the hole. Of course, she did it in the most absurd way: having Beau lather her in oil before _immediately_ getting covered in ashen remains. Inside was art, of which they managed to fit by the large woman opening the hole wider. There were also a bunch of rings and a ceremonial cloak of sorts.

Once everything had been removed, the wizard began another ritual- the same, it seemed, from earlier- while the monk began searching the urns and braziers for any remaining loot. At least they were thorough, he supposed.

He felt a bit awkward, just sitting around and waiting. It had been a _long_ day, and while he had his magical capabilities back after resting, he didn’t exactly have anything to do until Caleb was finished with his _detect magic_ ritual- _gods_ he couldn’t wait to ask his friend for the ritual for that; it would make waiting a lot less painful if he could help.

The dark-skinned woman approached the red haired man, a partially burnt book in hand. “Hey Caleb. Found this.” He seemed a bit frazzled by the distraction.

“Oh. Would you like to add it to the pile?” The bystander chuckled at that; it wasn’t meant to sound so rude, but it kinda was, which made it all the funnier.

“Sure. I think it’s got… stuff for you in it,” she remarked, placing it alongside everything else they’d found. _That_ interested the red tiefling enough to walk over, glancing at the tome with curiosity.

“I’m not really into smut, that was a bit of a ruse.” The newcomer burst out laughing, startling the pair at first. He very much did not know the context of that one, but he was almost glad. “Wait until I’m done, please.” Realizing that was directed towards him, the man just nodded, backing away once more impatiently.

“Everything’s in the pile?” Mollymauk piped up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as he looked down at the items. “Including the stuff in the second chest?” Brows furrowed in confusion before a goblin voice spoke up.

“What stuff in the second chest?” The words were very slow, a nervous tone causing it to be higher than normal. The lavender man narrowed his deep red eyes, arms folded across his chest as he gazed down at her. This caught the blue tiefling’s attention, which created a spiral of confused noises between the two.

“The stuff in the second chest,” he repeated, a stern, almost scolding expression on his face. “I heard two traps go off.” Having been caught in a lie, the goblin chuckled nervously, pulling out the box.

“Of course! I was just… about to get it out here. Its… for the whole group. We’re a team now, right?” Her teeth were gritted as she said the last part, clearly not wanting to go along but knowing she didn’t want to make the mistake she had a few days prior.

Everyone, save Yasha, saw what was happening. “That’s very considerate of you, Nott,” the half-orc said in a condescending manner, clearly making fun of the goblin but in a way that could pass for blind kindness.

“Anything you take on your own time is yours,” the lavender man reminded the small girl. “We’re on the clock.”

“Of course!” Nott responded, pretending as if she _hadn’t_ done anything wrong. “I would _never_ try to steal from the group.” Many of the group chuckled at that, knowing the _obvious_ lie.

Jester, not wanting to see the group fall apart like before, piped up. “What is it?”

“It’s a bunch of gold and jewels.” Ah, finally some truth. The newcomer found it quite amusing, actually, the banter and the different dynamics of the group. A pleased cheer erupted from the cleric.

“Hey,” the busy wizard piped up, clearly growing frustrated at the blatant lack of respect for his craft. “You know, this is going to take a while, so why don’t we put it all down, and I will get to work, okay?”

“I’m poisoned,” the goblin suddenly announced. Many of the group seemed a bit alarmed, with the exceptions of Caleb and Jester.

“How much you care to drink is on you,” the former flatly responded, assuming it from the amount of alcohol she’d ingested this past while. The latter attempted to look through her items, hoping to find some inspiration as to how to deal with the situation. Suddenly, she revealed a bunch of pouches and a mortar and pestle. Not minding the pestle much, she searched though the pouches for what seemed to be herbs.

It was good to know they had that on hand.

The goblin seemed to look much better after taking some of the herbs their cleric friend prepared, a bit more color returning to her skin. It was around the time the herbs were finished that the wizard concluded his ritual as well. The sword was magic, though that was already known, and while the book wasn’t magic, he recognized the type of binding and understood it to be a wizard’s spell book.

Now knowing it to be not magical in and of itself, he began to leaf through it- with the newcomer looking over his shoulder, of course. While the latter couldn’t make out any specific spells, he knew enough to recognize it’s use. The former briefly enlisted the cleric’s help via _mending_ cantrip, and while the pages returned to their original shape, the ink missing was not replaced. Still, the help was appreciated.

“You’ve got like, a section to take notes now,” the monk pointed out, a small smile drifting to the red tiefling’s face.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind if I were to help you translate it? Or-or at least learn them from you at a later point?” He inquired, getting anxious halfway through. He so desperately wanted to learn _more_ magic, of his own volition, and with a wizard in the party he just might get to do that.

There wasn’t a response, though, as he instead began sitting down to begin the _identify_ ritual. Deciding it best not to wait around for one, the tiefling did much the same, falling quickly into a routine with the man. Just under five minutes later, they were able to gleam information about the sword.

After the experience the first time he completed _identify_ with an ally, he was a bit wary, but being reminded the way the ritual was _meant_ to feel certainly helped his anxiety. While the wizard explained what they learned, he kept silent, understanding the want to control information.

“Okay, this sword, because I know you’re all _dying_ to know,” he began very flatly. “Is very old. It is a greatsword, called the Magician’s Judge.” A cacophony of impressed noises erupted from the group. “When someone like Yasha hits a baddie with this, you can dispel any magical property that is present.” He glanced back at his ally as if confirming his words. “Or without attacking, you can just hold the sword up and do the same.”

“We could use it on not-people as well? Maybe on objects?” Jester inquired, seemingly excited, to which the tiefling man nodded.

“Big woman,” the wizard once more piped up. “This has your name all over it. So I think…“ He seemed cautious but it was unnecessary, as the barbarian was practically trembling with excitement.

“Let me try and see if…” She began gesturing swinging it around.

“Oh,yeah. You’ll have to pick it up. I can’t even lift this thing,” he replied as the blue tiefling reached to hand the weapon to her. _Same,_ the newcomer thought to himself.

The emotion behind the barbarian’s eyes weren’t too complex, but rather too… passionate to easily be put into words. There were plenty of synonyms that didn’t quite feel as powerful: astonished, overjoyed, awe-struck, giddy; none of them seemed to capture the immensity of her emotions. He’d never seen someone experience emotion in such a large way and he certainly didn’t think the first time would be from her.

The words the newcomer began to speak, explaining the probable history and past usage of the sword, only brought further excitement to her features. As much as some part of him felt wary of a weapon so specifically designed to kill people like him, he already began to trust it in her hands. As much emotion filled her body, she didn’t let her gentle grip on the handle waver.

“Oo, it’s dark. Is it cursed? Does it feel cursed?” The smaller tiefling piped up, looking to the blade with the anticipation of one who had no real understanding of how to actually use it. She seemed so giddy at the fact her powerful ally had a similarly powerful weapon, but her lack of knowledge was evident with every motion and glance.

In a moment of blatant confusion at the question, the large woman peered at her friend before her different-colored eyes returned to the blade, raising the sharp edge to her lips as if she were about to whisper a secret. “Hello?” A few moments of silence passed before the warrior began shaking the sword as if waking a creature before putting her ear carefully near it once more. Not even a few seconds later she returned her gaze to her smaller ally, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”

The smaller warlock’s brain was still racing with information and connections; confirmations of information he already assumed or otherwise knew. An interesting possibility popped into his head; he wondered if Siff lost his flesh legs before or during the bounty hunter’s attack, not that it necessarily mattered. The Mistress likely felt satisfied that another hidden story of the past had been uncovered; he wondered if she knew his path would lead him here and gave him her blessing, or somehow influenced the situation.

He blinked, realizing that train of thought wasn’t important at the moment, focusing instead on his companions and their discussion. Jester was speaking. “Do you think taking the sword off the wall was what made Siff be able to come back?” She seemed a bit concerned, glancing between the more intellectuals of the group. Oh, that included him? _Huh._

The red-haired wizard shrugged, glancing from his spellbook- when had he gotten it out? Did he ever put it away? “I don’t know, but it was worth it,” he asserted. The blue-skinned girl seemed satisfied with that answer for now, although visibly uncertain.

“I don’t know…” the dark-haired monk muttered, eyes trained at her pale companion with her arms folded across her chest.

“At least we’re not dead, you guys!” The excitable girl spoke, although there was a hint of exhaustion in her tone. Everyone seemed to mumble soft agreement before a realization struck the dark-skinned woman, forcing a more vocal response from herself.

“We have some rings,” the small bandaged girl pointed out, attempting to bring some more ease to the morbid conversation. The skirted tiefling let out a low, yet excited sound, reaching her hands out in realization.

“We can put them on now!” The goblin began to ask a question, though he didn’t hear what it was because she quickly answered it. “They’re not magic.”

A brief pause. “Well, I know we share everything, but I feel like… the ladies of the group would enjoy them _more_.” An amused, yet somehow offended look crossed a few of the boys’ faces, including his own. “Maybe we just take them? The ladies of the group?” Jester had already put quite a few on her fingers.

“I don’t mind,” the half-orc, admittedly the most traditionally masculine of the lot, piped up. Mollymauk, on the other hand, without a word snatched one from the pile with his tail, examining it. The newcomer swore he heard the goblin mutter a swear.

“I mean, I want one, but we did promise the Gentleman what we found down here, didn’t we?” He piped up, uncertain, though his comment seemed to go unnoticed as Nott continued to speak.

“We call get one, that’s eight.” An uncertain look, but alright. “I should get one for finding them.”

“That’s fair,” mumbled the lavender-themed man.

“I should get one for sharing them. That was a good deed.” A disagreeing noise erupted from his lips, whereas his circus companion responded as such.

“That was not a good deed. That is literally baseline of what’s expected.” That earned a snicker, as true as it was.

“I should get an extra one for healing you with poison so that’s two for me!” Jester piped up, already excited to earn more material goods.

“Fjord gave up his, I’ll take his share. That’s four for me,” they continued.

“I get Caleb’s because he’s not saying anything. That’s three for me,” the blue girl piped up, earning a few amused laughs, included one from himself.

“Beau, you’re naturally beautiful, so I’ll take yours, so that’s five.” The taller of the pair winced upon seeing the now deathly glare from the woman.

“Give me a damn ring.” This time he was certain the goblin swore.

“How many is that?” They began counting; Raelan knew they were at eleven total now.

“I’m taking an extra one for helping you remember that you’re supposed to share,” the lavender man interrupted with a subtly menacing look, this time reaching down to grab his ring from the pile. In the process, he’d grabbed another, nodding his head towards the newcomer before tossing the ring his way. The latter appreciated it, having grown worried he wouldn’t get his. Without another word, he placed the simple silver band on the finger that best fit: thankfully, it was his middle, which he wanted regardless.

“So Yasha, there’s just the one left for you,” the energetic girl announced, looking to her much taller friend. She seemed a bit uncertain.

“You can put it in your ear,” Molly suggested, of which caused the newcomer to furrow his brow, confused as to how you could get a ring in an ear without breaking it apart.

“Or in your _nose_!” The cleric exclaimed, seemingly very excited at that idea, even going so far as to gesture how it would fit. Again, Raelan was a bit confused as to the logistics, but tried hard not to get consumed in that albeit tempting train of thought.

It was at that moment the goblin realized she had a piercing. “Oh! I have a nose ring! I’m going to swap one out! Don’t look!” She shrieked before hunching over herself in a spectacle in an attempt to hide.

It was then that the logistics of it came up. “There has to be a hole in it for you to be able to do that,” the cleric piped up, resulting in amused laughter from the group. _Oh. Okay, so they were planning to drill a break in the ring to make it fit for a piercing._ He didn’t know why the question rooted itself in his head but he was glad to have an answer regardless.

“Fuck! I got snot and ash all over it!” The party erupted into laughter, save Caleb, all side conversations forgotten in the bout of amusement.

The newcomer saw the hardened monk slide over to the wizard to engage in conversation, though he didn’t feel like bothering to eavesdrop on that one. Instead, hoping to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay, he wandered towards a section of the wall to rest against, opening his journal and hoping to let the dam open so he could sort through everything stirring like a stew in his mind. The group didn’t seem to be involved in anything important.

Of course, the moment he said that they actually began to discuss important matters, though thankfully before he actually got out his writing charcoal. He was close enough to overhear and add to it where he saw fit, so he decided not to undo the actions he’d just taken.

“The Gentleman just wanted us to kill shit, right?” The monk piped up, suddenly remembering they had a mission.

“To clear it out,” he half-orc agreed.

“He wanted us to… did he want us to bring back something? Or just clear it out?”

“Just clear it out if I recall,” Mollymauk responded.

“I believe he wanted us to bring him everything we found here, loot and artifacts included,” he responded, hand still moving across the page to create words- though at this point he couldn’t begin to tell you what they were. Probably the loads of information that struck him as side effect of the _identify_ spell. He knew his party likely only heard ‘kill shit’ and got so loot-minded they forgot the aspect wherein they had to show their finds. “He said he might let us keep some of the spoils, but I doubt he’ll let us keep anything of significance.” His eyes darted to the greatsword the barbarian held, working out how to strap it and her current sword to her back.

“Might let us keep some of the spoils?” Jester spoke, a look of dissatisfaction or horror on her childish features.

“I thought he said he wanted us to bring the expensive good shit, but we can keep whatever else,” Beau responded, confused.

“Yeah, well, what qualifies as expensive shit? The magic sword or the spellbook Caleb’s pouring through?” He retorted, sounding more frustrated than he intended. He didn’t want the group to have gotten too attached to anything knowing it could just as easily have been whisked away the moment they went topside. They weren’t in a position to _argue_ , either, the Gentleman could easily slaughter the eight of them after or without hunting them like beasts with their own blood.

He wasn’t angry, he reminded himself. He was _concerned._ He wasn’t making any decisions, he was reminding them of facts.

“You know, we could give him some of those rings,” the wizard suggested, surprising the newcomer. He wondered if he’d been pulled into the conversation due to his name being called, or just by nature of wanting to be involved.

“Maybe some of the art?” The monk added. Raelan felt as if the art were the only obvious part, as a group of eight adventurers had no need for those sorts of objects.

“ _Ja,_ definitely the art.” So it seemed Caleb agreed, as well as Nott.

“I bet they’re worth a lot of money, though. Rich people love old things,” the blue-skinned woman piped up, almost not wanting to give it up. He bit his lip, knowing his very black-and-white thinking would only cause more turmoil in the group he’d only begun to join. This was his time to keep silent.

“They _love_ old things!” Beau agreed with her. “If we say it belonged to a dead person, they love it even more!”

“Plus, if you give them all the rings, they might give us a job with more fancy stuff next time,” Fjord spoke up- honestly, a voice of reason amidst all this. Though he wholeheartedly agreed, a small part of the red-hued man didn’t want to give up his one dinky little ring. Not enough to risk the group’s life over, though.

“If we skimp, he’s going to think we’re bigger assholes than we actually are,” Caleb piped up. _Or will he think we’re exactly the amount of assholes we are?_ He blinked, realizing his joke didn’t quite make sense. He knew the sentiment was there, and it wasn’t as if he’d vocalized it.

“Let’s keep it all together then, for now.” The purple man swished his tail, removing the two rings from his fingers and putting them back into the box. “Except for the books.”

“We’ll each take a ring,” Beau tried to argue, her selfishness growing prominent. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was having similar thoughts. He noticed he’d stopped writing, closing the tome and putting the charcoal back where it belonged.

“One ring,” the cleric spoke, though it was more a pleading rationalization.

“We’ll each take one ring,” the monk continued, with no other arguments. In the blink of an eye, one of the rings had returned to the ornate man’s finger, a slight smirk on his face. A wave of unease passed through the newcomer as he pulled his bracer down, hoping to hide the new addition to his collection.

“No, you don’t…” Nott piped up, drawing Raelan’s attention again. He’d missed something, though there was a fake look of reluctance on the goblin’s face. “-you don’t have to- alright.” Not even a breath passed between the agreement.

“I already took his ring,” Jester reminded her friend, a sheepish look on her face. He knew the situation that was dawning, an amused but welcome grin on his face. _Gods_ , these folk were bizarre. You’d think they’d known each other for years by the way they so fluidly interacted with one another. _I hope I can have that too, one day._

A hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to look up to see who it belonged to, though he did. His purple ally was next to him against the wall, tail flicking slightly like a cat in thought. The expression on his face was comforting, though the lingering remnants of battle tried its best to contradict such.

“Maybe we can give him that research notebook we found,” the monk piped up again, looking to her wizard companion. His attention wasn’t as focused as it usually was; he blamed the physical contact for that.

 _Gods_ he felt like such a teenager. He was wary to fall into touch and affection so swiftly and passionately, terrified of the moment it faded away as he watched the thing he’d grown to rely on vanish. He’d seen it once before, though it was usually at his own hands; _because_ he’d grown to rely on it and threaded his fingers in it so tightly that it never had a chance to grow. He didn’t know if he would be able to have such passionate affections again without losing himself into it; he didn’t want to lose everyone around him again, he _couldn’t_. Why was he _here_? He should’ve just-

He didn’t realize the warmth that surrounded him, physical discomfort slowly pulling him from his thoughts; _was_ it discomfort? It was warm nonetheless.

He blinked, trying to focus his attention once more to the present. He needed to be _here_ , not in his head. He had a headache again, he thought it had faded?

There were arms around him. Molly’s… arms? It was pulling him to the side he remembered his ally being… was he hugging him? Why would he do that, they… they didn’t do that before, did they?

He blinked more. A wetness left his eyes. What? He raised his hands to his face, focusing on the sensation his fingers felt. His face was damp. Had he started crying?

Having noticed it now, he _felt_ the familiar crystal of pain in his chest. It’d grown in his brief spiral, likely as a result of his anxious thoughts. He really needed better control of his feelings, he was beginning to lose it; was it these people?

A painful thought crossed his mind once more, though this time he had the strength to push it away, thanks to the tether Mollymauk had unknowingly ~~did he know?~~ provided. He hoped he’d have time to properly rest soon.

He straightened his back, the arms loosening with his action, hoping to push the sadness from his muscles with the relief in tension. The sounds around him, with focus, slowly morphed into actual words, and with a few more moments he was able to distinguish the language- of course it was common, they didn’t ever _not_ speak common, but the effort had to be made nonetheless.

He didn’t want to participate in the discussion, as he knew his opinion wouldn’t exactly be welcome, but he figured it was important to at least attempt to keep up. The group at the moment were discussing their situation with the Gentleman, in terms of them being unable to escape this situation and keep the loot they’d acquired for themselves. It felt so stupidly foolish, they were the ones that wanted to walk into the belly of the beast, knowing such a situation was possible. They spoke of ways to avoid poking the beast while doing the very things that would aggravate it; part of him wondered if they just didn’t understand the situation they put themselves in or if they were willfully ignorant.

He wondered if he’d made a stupid decision himself, by wanting so badly to be a part of these people. If their decisions would get him killed; not that he exactly had much to want to stay alive for, it was more the principle of the matter.

His interest was, of course, piqued when the discussion drifted more towards the scarred teleportation circle in the center of the room. The half-orc had asked the smaller tiefling if her mending capabilities would be able to fix it, to which the wizard said it was more an issue of arcane knowledge- something even his specialties didn’t assist with.

“Hey, what do we know about the Crawling King?” Beau piped up, glancing towards a few others: Caleb, Jester, Molly, and himself. His eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, though Raelan wasn’t the most religious sort- he knew enough to know that’s what it was referring to, at the very least. He only really knew of it in passing, either in lists of texts of betrayer gods or in references to the Calamity.

Surprisingly, Fjord piped up- or rather, spoke up after having been called upon by the wizard himself- not seeming to even understand where his own knowledge on the subject came from. Even talking about it was scattered, a series of thoughts he had trouble initially communicating. “I feel like I remember something about a real… larva-lookin’ worm. _Huge_ fucking thing. Screaming human face at the front.”

An unsettling chill ran down the newcomer’s spine at the words, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was the description or the way Fjord’s words seemed like a hollow echo. Either way, the mood was lightened a bit- at least for him- when Jester gasped excitedly, pulling out what he know understood to be her sketchbook, a small piece of charcoal in hand.

“Locked away after the Calamity, but real nasty,” Fjord continued, the subtle echo having vanished. Raelan nodded along at this part- while he didn’t know the specifics, he at least knew _that_ much- even Caleb had a hint of recognition on his face, though confusion was most prominent.

“Do you have a lot of knowledge for the gods and religions of the world?” The red-haired man questioned, a bit surprised, though he sounded intimidating with his tone.

“Not really,” the half-orc admitted. “It’s more like I remember from a dream or something. Kinda hard to remember if it happened to me or not.” _Curious,_ the newcomer thought, making a small mental note to inquire further at a later time.

“So the… awe-inspiring one with the face is from a dream you had?” There was a suspicion in the wizard’s tone that the newcomer was uncertain as to the reasoning, though from the way his tiefling ally’s stance shift he understood it to likely be something he’d missed in the time they’d traveled prior.

“Was it the salt-water deam?” The goblin piped up suddenly and a wave of shock and confusion struck the newcomer.

“What saltwater dream?” He suddenly piped up, all eyes drawn away from the larger man. A wave of anxiety welled up within him; he felt as if perhaps he’d overstepped, or perhaps had revealed some secret information the now made him a danger. _You’re overreacting_ , he told himself, but the feeling didn’t ease.

“Fjord threw up water one morning,” Jester replied, as if it explained everything. The lingering confusion gave enough cue for someone else to speak.

“We weren’t near water. We’ve been inland for weeks. He woke up from a dream gasping and… threw up saltwater,” Beau decided to explain. Recognition and yet confusion came over the newcomer’s features as he stared at the now-uncomfortable companion.

“That’s…” The tiefling began to speak, but upon seeing the unease in his ally’s features, however hard he tried to hide it, he knew that was a conversation he needed to have at a later time. Fjord seemed stressed about it already, and given the similar type of magic the two wielded, he wondered how long he’d been casting magic without knowing his tie to his patron- and the newcomer _knew_ the man had a patron, even though his experiences were much different. Whether from his reading or from knowledge his Mistress granted him, he understood the signs of a warlock, as well as the debt that came with for most. It wasn’t the place to break the news, either way.

Nott piped up, discussing with the man about lucid dreaming, for one reason or another, he hadn’t cared to find out amidst his thoughts. The discussion died after a bit, Beau deciding to steer the conversation to the original topic. “Well, I think this information about the uh…” she pointed with her finger in a way that traced the shape. “…teleportation-y circle situation… could be useful leverage if he wants to try and take that sword off your back.”

Right. He’d almost forgotten.

“I could also… um…” the large monochrome woman began speaking, eyes darting around for a moment with uncertainty. “I… I feel like rich people… like candlesticks?” She seemed disbelieving even as she spoke. “So I… could take the candlesticks with us.” Fjord had to fight a chuckle.

“Yeah, what are they made of?” He inquired, trying to play along and not dismiss his ally’s idea.

“Nott or I could tell you,” Caleb offered, the goblin already picking one off the ground to investigate. The answer ultimately didn’t seem too pleasing.

“They’re antique, you know?” Yasha interrupted, already embarrassed at her attempt. “For… decoration?”

“Fuck yeah man!” Fjord responded. “Melt those down!”

“They’ll probably want those instead of the sword,” she continued with no initial response, though everyone in the room held an expression of amusement. He seemed distracted as the blue-adorned woman began speaking again, likely in deep thought. It took a lot of the newcomer’s attention to not reach his mind out in an attempt for answers.

“I say we keep this teleportation shit a secret, unless he tries to start bargaining for shit, and then we’re like-“ The monk began miming an argument. “P.S… teleportation circle… we told you that you give us the sword.” Nobody seemed especially enthused by that idea save the raventte across form her; a frustrated tension wormed itself into the red tiefling’s skin again.

“Are we going to tell him about the sword?” The blue tiefling asked, confused.

“Not unless he asks.”

“Pretty sure it’s _aluminium_ ,” Fjord suddenly piped up, resulting in the spectator biting back an amused chuckle. None seemed to pay him much mind.

The hand returned to Raelan’s shoulder, almost as if sensing the returning tension. This group was chaotic to say the least, and the more they all talked the more _he_ personally wanted to leave. A cowardly part of him wanted to run and hide and never interact with this group again, terrified of the feelings they gave him and of the risk he was put in due to them, and yet another part wanted to leave to _ensure_ their safety. He was feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of feelings within him, and some part of his mind wanted to just hide in his room, hold Ames as a cat to his chest, and cry until things weren’t so _intense_.

Gods he hated feelings and he hated how the hand did the _opposite_ of help. Some part of him wanted to use _Molly_ as a placeholder and clutch _him_ instead, but that was more than deeply inappropriate.

He pushed himself away from his companion, moving closer to the wall as Ames flew towards him, no doubt sensing the stress. He wrapped his arms around her like a child, pulling her to his chest and running his fingers through her feathers. _“It’s alright. I’m here.”_

“Jester!” Caleb shouted suddenly, causing the overwhelmed warlock to flinch, pulling further in on himself. A small noise escaped the purple tiefling as he watched the situation before the newcomer saw his ally kneeling in front of him.

“Hey, it’s alright, lad.” Gods, his attempt to be comforting was simultaneously helpful and maddening. “What’s going on?” His pupil-less red eyes focused in on him, waiting to read any sign of communication. Everything just felt _too much_. Ames seemed to study the man carefully in return.

 _Too much_ , he tried to say, tried to speak, tried to reach out but he felt too trapped within himself to get anything out. He felt as if his feelings were so intense they were drowning the sound of _him_ out. He clutched his eyes shut, trying to keep more from getting _in_ so maybe he could get _out_.

A pair of calloused, yet gentle hands moved to either side of his ears, and sound drowned itself out, leaving only him and his _inside._ It didn’t register at first they weren’t his own hands; not until he felt more _body_ touching him, the sensation of touch helping ground him so he wasn’t yet drowning. He didn’t think of who it was, though the answer was very clear, he only cared that maybe he could just _breathe_.

He hated feelings. He hated feelings so, so much. He hated how he couldn’t be happy without fear or love without scars growing inflamed. He wanted so badly to just be a dumb boy with a dumb crush and a group of new friends, but everything was so much more _complicated_. Everyone else seemed so _normal_ and yet he felt a _freak_. There was a goblin and an unknowing warlock for fucks sake, and _he_ felt the oddity, all because he couldn’t just _feel_ and _think_ normal. The one person who made him feel somewhat normal he couldn’t breathe around, and everything was just so fucking _complicated._

 _“Breathe.”_ A voice spoke in his head, jarring him from his spiral.

 _What?_ He blinked, trying to process.

 _“It’s alright. You’re alright. I know it’s a lot, just breathe, okay? Deep breaths and focus on me.”_ A part of him wanted to question _who_ , but at the same time he didn’t know if he wanted it. Again, he blinked, clearing his eyes and focusing outward. As per suspicion, in front of him, maintaining eye contact, was Mollymauk, sitting on the floor with him and hands over the newcomer’s ears.

As if practiced, he slowly took in a deep breath and Raelan copied, not even thinking. A slight smirk drew upon his friend’s lips as he did, gently nodding in response.

 _“Good. Again.”_ Together they exhaled, and with his breath left a lot of the _too much_. _“Don’t think. Just breathe.”_ Inhale the clean, lighter empty. Exhale the muddled, heavy _much_.

A loud sound made it into his ears, though he didn’t know what. Molly’s head lifted up in response, looking behind him as the weaker man flinched, curling again into himself. _Too much, too much._

 _“Breathe,”_ came the voice- _Molly’s_ voice, as the hands around his ears tightened in on him. He was responding to someone, though the red man couldn’t tell who, before his attention returned to him. _“Hey, I said breathe. C’mon.”_

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Better now?” He didn’t realize at first the hands had left him, not until he saw them resting on the lavender man’s lap as he stared into him. A wave of panic almost struck him- until he noticed the breath caught in his chest and let it free. Still, he didn’t know necessarily if he was able to speak, or even if he had the mental energy to _speak_. He barely had the energy to question their situation.

 _OTHERS?_ He signed, his grip leaving the feathered familiar in his arms. Some part of him hoped the man understood the common sign, though another had a strong feeling that due to the nature of his previous work he was intimately familiar.

“They’ve gone ahead,” he answered, pointedly looking behind him to the doorway. “I didn’t realize you knew sign.”

 _DIDN’T NEED BEFORE. THINK IS EXHAUSTING._ He nodded, not in knowledge, but in sympathy. _THANK YOU._

“You’re plenty welcome, my dear.” He rose to his feet, offering a hand to bring the newcomer to much the same. “Come. We ought to catch up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering adding a drabbles companion book to this series; a book of drabbles that either flesh out or enhance some aspects of the series, but not a requirement for continuing to read it. (Honestly, it'll mostly be smut or nightmares that aren't important to the story, or anything else within the canon that doens't exactly add to the series itself.  
> If anyone is interested or absolutely against it, let me know I guess?


	10. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelan's unable to sleep, due to both the events of the previous day and a dream that sent his mind into overthinking mode. At least night is the best time to get your thoughts in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the whole plot with Molly seems a bit rushed: it's on purpose. ;-)

Waking with a gasp, Raelan clutched the collar of his shirt, trying to calm his heavy breathing. Even as someone who often couldn’t feel when heat flushed his face, he knew for a fact his cheeks- if not his whole face- was a much deeper red than his skin. His body trembled just a bit, from both excitement and embarrassment. _Gods_ , he thought as he realized what happened, burying his face in his hands in hopes his hands would pull the thoughts from his head. He hoped his untied hair hid his face from the others with darkvision; he wasn’t emotionally ready to handle people with what he’d woken from.

 _Gods_ , he felt so embarrassed by his unconscious thoughts. Nobody knew- how could they- but the fact alone… His eyes flickered over to the familiar lavender tiefling, deep into his rest but a yard or so away, cheeks flushing with a deep red.

His lighty-pointed ears twitched lightly as a surprising sound hit it, drawing his eyes. A panting of breaths filled the empty cavern as the half orc shot up, clutching his chest as if he were in pain. The newcomer’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, studying him in hopes of understanding what it was his ally saw. He knew in his gut it couldn’t be good, given the information he’d learned the day before, but there was a certain need for confirmation before he could act upon his insights.

The green-skinned man glanced to his hands in horror and confusion, almost as if… searching for something. The haggard breaths eased with relief for a moment, and the red man watched as the half-orc wiped his mouth with the back of his dominant hand. In the darkness he couldn’t quite see colors, but with the darkness of the liquid that spread across the skin of his ally, he figured it wasn’t just drool. _Gods_ , what had his companion gotten himself into?

In a flash, the larger man reached out his hand, a blade apparating within it as he clutched his fist around it. To both of the men’s surprise, it didn’t seem to be the same blade he’d carried with him into battle, but a large falchion with hooked and jagged features. Excitement spread across the man’s features as the newcomer watched him with curiosity. It was only then a realization and fear struck the new warlock, the blade vanishing as he looked around the cavern to see if the spectacle had woken any of his allies.

His eyes widened as they landed on Raelan, concern and sympathy both equally evident in his features. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked, clearing his throat. The tiefling shook his head, folding his legs up into himself.

“No, I woke up not long before you. I uh…” A slight blush returned as he briefly glanced to the person of his affections, though the action was quick enough he hoped his ally hadn’t noticed. “I had my own dream.” The green man’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, though they quickly eased in realization and embarrassment of some sort. “You can go back to sleep. I think I’m going to keep watch, just in case.” A hesitant nod as the man slowly fell back into his bedroll. “Fjord?” A hum of acknowledgement. “I won’t tell anyone, but if you think that for even a moment you’re in over your head, don’t be afraid to let me know. I… I was fortunate to have made a good deal with my Mistress, but many warlocks aren’t so fortunate.”

Silence fell over the two of them, a feeling of unease within both. “Thank you,” came the eventual response. “Try to get some rest. You’re a useful… companion, I wouldn’t want you to end up hurt because you didn’t get a long enough rest.” The red man nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll be fine, Fjord, but thank you. I just need to think for a while. I promise I won’t suddenly abandon you guys, I’m… a bit too attached.” He didn’t quite know why he felt the need to bring it up, but he understood the possible fear of abandonment present within the group. Should he want, he very much had an opportunity to escape, to take one of the boats and just _leave_ , never having to deal with any of them and their baggage. He could move on with his life, continue picking up odd jobs around Zadash, maybe even working with the Gentleman now that the door was open. But as he said, even with the short time they’d been allies, he’d grown much too close to these people. They knew too much of him and vice versa.

A small shuffling sound rung in his ears as he brought himself back to the present, the half-orc curling back into his somewhat restful sleep, once again leaving Raelan to the deafening silence of the cavern. He buried his face in his hands, the embarrassed blush rising in his cheeks once more. _Gods_ , he was stupid for letting himself get so caught up in his feelings. He barely knew these people, yet here he was, having _those_ kinds of dreams about them- about _him_. The flustered feeling rose again within his chest at the thought of the lavender tiefling beside him, so peaceful and comfortable in his unconsciousness.

Oh, how _badly_ he wanted to curl up next to him and rest his head on the man’s chest, falling into a much more kind sleep than he was used to. He wanted to cling to him as if he were the only thing keeping him sane; to nuzzle into the tattooed neck and forget everything he’d been stressed with for over a year. He wanted to lay with that man and forget any other person he’d ever slept beside.

 _If only it were that easy_ , he huffed, burying his flushed face in his knees, hair shielding his expression like a cowl. A part of him wanted to cry, to release the tension of his feelings and just _maybe_ draw the lavender man’s attention- the fact he’d grown to associate the sadness and stress in his body with the man perhaps wasn’t a healthy one, but it was one that gave him more positive feelings than ill. He _knew_ better than to make the mistake again, to only long for one’s comfort and not their companionship, but it was so _easy_. It wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ want it, it was just… so much harder and heavier to obtain.

Was he really going to allow himself to make the same mistake again on the chance his lavender ally wouldn’t reciprocate _any_ of those feelings?

It wasn’t as if the purple man was one to reject those kinds of heated enjoyments. He used to work with the circus; he read tarot and consumed alcohol like a man whose life was a party. It wasn’t _that_ likely if the newcomer wanted to have those intimate moments with him that he would reject him.

Though, perhaps it was the fear of wanting more. Raelan wasn’t one to just sleep with people without some deeper connection, perhaps what really kept him so willing to fuck up was the concern that his chosen companion was the exact kind of person to not have _that_ kind of connection. He seemed so non-committal by comparison, maybe the fear he felt was the fear of being used again. Of being an object without affections, simply a figure to perform actions at but not _with_.

He clutched his hands together in an attempt to ease the trembling. Yes, that was it. He longed for Molly much like Jester longed for Fjord; an unhealthy fantasy that was unlikely to come to pass. He shouldn’t be so stupid as to expect it to happen, yet not trying for something _more_ was the exact thing that would ruin him; he didn’t _want_ to make the same mistake he had with past partners, but he was just so _afraid._ He felt like a rat trapped in a cage; all options lead to hurt, yet he couldn’t just _leave_. He was confined within his own walls of emotions, only able to suffer and hope.

The lavender man rolled over in his sleep, his arm outstretching just a bit more towards the red man. That simple, unconscious act was enough to keep him hopeful; perhaps this was a sign from his Mistress, or the Moonweaver, that this was a connection meant to happen. _Gods_ , he wasn’t much the spiritual, religious type, but for just this moment he chose to be, as it was so much easier.

Taking a deep breath, he laid back down on his bedroll, facing the outstretched hand a foot from him. His hand drifted for just a moment that way, though he stopped himself before he made contact.

_Inhale._

He closed his eyes, wishing for time and opportunity to just be the stupid, hopeful boy he hadn’t the space to be in a long, long time.


End file.
